Deceiver
by Arsosah
Summary: Sequel to Darker. The beginning, the middle, and the end. "I know you can keep a secret." But I'm not three years old anymore.
1. The meeting

_**Sequel to Darker**.  
_

_I never planned for a sequel, but the thought came to me a couple of days before I updated the last chapter of Darker. And then some people asked for it, and I thought... okay, I can try and see what happens. This is the result, or at least, the first chapter. I might not be able to update that quickly, but I'll try to update once a week. Can't promise anything, though. _

_I hope you'll like it. Here we go...  
_

* * *

**Deceiver**

**Chapter One - The meeting**

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

"Son?"

The unfamiliar voice wakes me up from my daze, and I glance up, bewildered.

"You okay?"

My fingers are stiff. It's the first that I notice, the first part I start to move when I try to bend them, to clench my fists. I feel the cold wet underneath them. I blink in the light snowfall. My jeans are soaked now, and I'm not really sure how much time that has gone by. I can't even think straight. But when the man in front of me kneels down, I'm suddenly more alert, jerk away and put up my hand between us.

"No!" I wail, using my legs and other arm to push myself backwards. Away from him.

"Calm down," the man says. "You're hurt."

"George," a female voice says, "can't you see the boy is scared?"

Scared? That's what I am. I am scared. There's a tightness in my chest that hasn't gone away _yet_, even since he left what feels like hours ago.

But he left. He can't be here. I saw him walk away.

I drop my hand, finally realizing it's not him. It's not Henry. The man, and woman, in front of me are older, and I suddenly feel ridiculous, laying here, in the snow, wet and cold, like a little kid. I'm a greaser, ain't I?

"I - I ain't scared," I stutter, curl myself up a bit more. But truth is, I want to run and hide. I want Soda. I close my eyes for a moment, but open them again with the next sound.

"You're bleedin', honey," the woman says while putting a hand on her husband's, I think, shoulder. They both eyes me with concern.

I still feel the taste in my mouth. The pain is more than dull, and I reach up to touch my face. Even without a mirror, I can tell my lip is split and my nose is swollen, but at least I don't think it's broken. "I'm fine," I avoid them, looking away. The movement makes my eyes fall on a small headstone, and I shudder. _Matthew Gaines._ He doesn't exist anymore. It's not him under there, it's not even Henry under there, it's his brother, Luke, and Henry... Henry is somewhere else, alive, breathing, still a threat.

_I know you can keep a secret._

"Where do you live?" George asks me. I turn my eyes to him instead, meeting a pair of gray, friendly eyes. "You want us to drive you home to your parents?"

I want to tell him yes. But that's impossible. Instead, I shake my head, slowly.

"N-no. They are here."

"Here?" The old lady search with her gaze over the cemetery, and I watch her, not sure what she's looking after. "It's no one else here," she tells me after a short moment. I feel myself relax. If no one else is here, Henry isn't either. I struggle to get up on my feet, and when I stand, the man does too, but they keep the distance I made between us. They watch me like I'm a hunted animal. I guess they just notice my appearence. I hug my arms around my body, because the cold finally gets me. I shiver. I need a smoke.

"Are you sure your parents are here?" George says while I lit one I found in my pocket. I have to struggle with the lighter, my fingers protest against the action, but I finally succeed and inhales, fast, fiercely.

The wife's eyes seem disapproving all of the sudden, afraid almost, whispers something in George's ear, frantically clasping his arm. He protest, talking low, but not low enough for me not to hear him. "We can't just leave a hurt kid-"

"I'm okay," I hurry to say. "It's not... it's no big deal." I bite my lip, feel it sting. It's dark, and late. It will be a big deal when I get home. "I have to go."

And I do. I hear the man shout something after me, but then I start running. It's not easy, my whole body feels numb, the snow is slippery, I lose my cigarette when I drop it, but at least I get away from them. I run past my parents' grave and through the gates, don't stop until I stand at the bus station, and then I put my hands to my knees, catching my breath. Trying to. I'm breathless, but I'm a runner. I shouldn't be.

xXx

"The hell, Pone!" Someone grabs me, jerking me up from the bench I sit on to wait for the bus. I try to shove him away, but he keeps my arm in a firm grip. "What happened?" The voice breaks with concern, a smooth hand touching my face. I turn away.

"Soda..."

"What happened, Pone? You're bleedin'!" He shakes me slightly, force me to face him again by dropping my arm and place both his hands at my temples.

_I know you can keep a secret._

Is that a statement? A threat? I don't know.

"It's... it's nothin' Soda, I'm fine! Let go!" He does.

A dark shadow turns up behind him, and I take a deep drag of air, until I recognize Two-Bit. His car stands parked on the curb, headlights still on and the passenger door wide open.

"Damn, kid, I should've followed ya," Two-Bit says, looking miserable. I can't stand the way they both stares at me. I put my gaze down, stares at the ground.

"Pone, what happened?" Soda repeats for the third time. "Who did this?" He takes my arm again, and I let him.

"It was-" _It was Henry. He's still alive, Soda. It was his _brother_, his goddamn _brother _who pretend to be him in the crash, and he drove, he drove the car, that's how they did it, 'cause he was dying anyway... _"-he..." _...he told me, but why did he? He said_

_I know you can keep a secret._

What does it mean? That he hope I won't tell? That he knows I won't tell? But I don't keep secrets anymore.

He doesn't know that.

I look up. "It was a Soc." I inspect my lie in my head, if it will work, if taking the easy way out until I understand everything is the right thing to do. And he did said - he did said he wouldn't come after us. He did said he would leave town. I don't trust him. Of course I don't.

"A Soc?"

"Yeah. He - he jumped me. Can we go home now?"

xXx

Steve and Johnny sits in our couch, looking up as we enter, but Soda drags me past them to the bathroom, tells me to sit down on the toilet lid. Then he grabs my chin, turns my face up to the light. Gentle he press a finger to my nose.

"Does it hurt?"

It does. "A little."

"I don't think it's broken. Just bruised." He examine the wound on my mouth, tells me to open up, checking my teeth. "You'll be fine," he finally gives his verdict. I close my mouth again.

"Yeah."

Soda sits down on the edge to the bathtube. "So why did you went there by yourself? We told you not to." He sounds disappointed. "What if that brother had show up?"

I stare down at my hands, still clad in the mittens Soda brought with him when they picked me up. The ride home wasn't enough to warm me up. "He didn't. And I just wanted to see them." He opens his mouth but I come first. "I promise I won't do it again."

"You better," he tells me sternly. "Gosh, Pone, you have to stop pulling the things you do."

I know that. "Where's Dar?" I change the subject.

"Still at work. He called. He'll be late home today."

"Will you tell him?"

He's silent for a moment. Then, "No. Not that you went to the cemetery. But you have to tell him about the damn Soc. You can't keep that a secret." He points at my face. He rise and pulls me up, stands me in front of the sink. I take off my shirt and the mittens, turn the tap to lukewarm water. Then he help me wash off the blood, muttering about stupid Socs who can't leave a thirteen year old alone.

_But I can keep other secrets, Soda. To protect you. I think that's why. Keep the secret, and he will leave us alone.  
_

xXx

_Lawton, Oklahoma, 1966_

The boy knows.

He grips the steering wheel tighter, whitening his knuckles, thinking of slamming his forhead into the windscreen, because the kid _fucking knows._

He can claim himself to be many things, but smart is not one of them. He's aware of that. Luke was always the one with the brain, not that it helped him in the end, and he was the one who told him the importance of keeping his mouth shut afterwards. That was the plan. He can't believe he was so stupid. _Not_ sticking to plans should've teached him some in the past, but apparently, he'll never learn. And now the boy knows.

Because he fucking told him.

Because he couldn't see the difference between a three year old who had a lot to lose, and a thirteen year old, who had already lost.

There's a sign along the road, and he hits the brakes, makes a turn to the left. He'll fix this.

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

_The ground is covered in white. No. It's beyond covered, it's hidden, deep buried in a layer of several feet. I dig with my bare hands. I need to see their grave._

_I reach the stone, but it's not theirs. It's his. His name tease me.  
_

_Luke Morgan._

_I read his name. Over and over. Luke Morgan. Not Matthew Gaines. Not Henry.  
_

_I stand in the church. It's a funeral._

_Soda steps up next to me, holds my hand. "You have to tell me," he says. He turns his face against me. Blood drips from his mouth.  
_

_"He'll kill you if I do," I say.  
_

_"He'll kill me if you don't."  
_

xXx

_Lawton, Oklahoma 1966_

The apartment is little and dirty, only one room and a bathroom, no balcony, but he takes it. He digs into his wallet, finds the money to pay for rent and one months deposition, hands it to the landlord who grins toothless and blinks before he hurries away. It's not until he already has got the keys and tries to settle in he discovers the cockroaches in the bathtube.

He doesn't really care.

Instead, he turns the tap to the sink, to wash his face in cold water. It's too late to regret anything. He meets his own blue eyes in the cracked mirror above the sink, frowning slightly. It should be so easy, start a new life a long way from Oklahoma as Luke Morgan, with no criminal record, maybe even head abroad if necessary. A week after the accident, at the funeral of Matthew Gaines, he knew they had succeeded. No one could even imagine they didn't buried Henry Morgan. But they did, some way. He's Luke now.

His hands grips the yellow by age porcelain while he dips his head, letting the water drip down. He's Luke, but he doesn't feel like him. All his memories still lingers to him, eating him. He grit his teeth. He could have escaped from himself if it wasn't for the boy. Remembering that afternoon, at the cemetery, the first time he saw him, makes him still surprised. It was something familiar about the boy who stood by Luke's grave, a resemble in the hair, the eyes, but not until he told him his name he understood who he was. Ponyboy Curtis.

The little three year old has grown big.

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1956_

_He runs into Darrel Curtis two years after his release. Literally runs into him, dropping his vodka bottle. It breaks as it hits the concrete.  
_

_"Can't you fuckin' look out?" he snaps, even if it was himself who turned around the corner too fast. He reaches down, but hesitates a few inches over the broken glass, startled by the voice._

_"Henry?"_

_He stretch himself up again, stares into the eyes of a friend he hasn't seen in over ten years. Not since his trial.  
_

_"God," Darrel Curtis says. "It's been forever. How are you?" He sounds unsure. And all Henry can feel is hate. He hates him. The rage builds up within him, and he clench his fists, prepares to shove them hard into the body in front of him, smash the face, destroy him, when Darrel's eyes flicker down to his left for a short moment. Henry follows his gaze. A little boy stands with his small hand in Darrel's, wide-eyed. That makes him wake up, take a step back.  
_

_"I have to go," Henry says, turns around._

_"Hey!" Darrel shouts. So he stops, for a second. "Come by Don's tonight? At nine?"_

_He narrows his eyes, back still turned to his former friend. "Maybe." He leaves without another word. He doesn't owe Darrel anything.  
_

_He never intend to, but in the end, he finds himself outside the lively bar at nightfall anyway. He doesn't know why. The door pushes open, letting out a drunk man, and Henry catch it before it's closed again._

_The bar is smoky. He has to brush past a lot of people, and he hates every single touch. He has his reasons. When he finally has passed through, his whole body feels like it's burning. He orders a beer, shouts to the bartender over the noise from the jukebox, from people talking and laughing, and before he gets it, a hand lands on his shoulder. He jerks._

_"You came."_

_"Yeah." The beer is placed by his hand, and he slaps some dollar bills on the counter. The bitter drink tastes good. Darrel sits down next to him, orders a beer as well._

_"I'm glad we ran into each other," Darrel says. "I've wanted to talk to ya."_

_Henry doesn't answer._

_"I'm sorry," Darrel says, not looking at him. "For everythin'."_

_It doesn't help. Not a bit. He still hates him, but it's not raging like earlier today. It's in control. If he plays his cards right, he can regain the control. Maybe hurt Darrel, the way he hurt him. He's good at acting. He has acted since he got out, pretend nothing happened in there._

_"No need," he says, force himself to smile. Darrel seems relaxed beside him. Henry notice the wedding ring, remembers the little boy._

_"So," he says. "You're married?"_

_He can see the fucking glow the other man gets in his eyes. "Yeah. To Anne."_

_Anne. The bitch he stood him up for. Then he mention the kid._

_"I saw your little boy."_

_"Actually, I've got three." Darrel shines with pride. "Darrel junior, Sodapop and Ponyboy. It was Soda who was with me today."_

_Henry can't help but burst out into laughter. "You're kiddin' me."_

_"You know me," Darrel grins, not taking offense. "But I like my boys names. It was my idea." _

_Henry studies him, thinking of how happy the man seems. Wife. Kids. Life in freedom. God, he wants to destroy that._

_"Want to come home for dinner sometime? We could barbeque," Darrel says.  
_

_Henry grips his beer glass, feels the cold surface against his palm. "Sure. I'd like that."_

* * *

_So... what do you think?  
_

_Beta-readed by Every'Piece'Has'A'Purpose, thank you so much! :)  
_

_**I don't own it - S.E Hinton does!**  
_


	2. The suspicion

**Deceiver**

**Chapter Two - The suspicion**

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

Every time I look at Soda, I hesitate. He notice, of course, asks me what's wrong. I'm not sure what to say to him. I'm so afraid of making the wrong desicion. Yesterday, it seemed right to lie, but today, I just don't know. Suddenly I don't even know if the man really said those things to me, or if it only was one of my nightmares again, mixed up with reality. I can't really recall what happened on the cemetery, after he punched me down. My memory of it is a bit blurry, everything. I almost don't even remember how I got home. If my face hadn't hurt, I think I would've thought it all was a bad dream.

But I have to say something. Soda's waiting.

"You know that Soc?" I start, settle myself down on the bed. I'm still wearing my pyjama pants and the tee I slept in. Soda is standing on one foot on the floor, pulling a sock on the other. His face changes at my words.

"If I ever see him," he says harshly, "I promise to smash his fuckin' face." He put his foot down, shaking his head in disbelief. "I can't believe they actually jumped a little kid. What have you ever done to them?" He grabs his shirt hanging over the back of the chair. I smile meekly, pretending not to hear the 'little kid-thing'.

"Yeah, but it wasn't..." _It wasn't a Soc._

"Wasn't what?"

My throat gets tighter. I swallow, start coughing.

"I hope you ain't gettin' sick because of yesterday," Soda says a bit worried, stepping up in front of me. He puts a cool hand on my forhead. It's tempting. It's very tempting to say I feel bad, and stay home. But instead I say,

"I'm not." Then, "We have to hurry if we wanna get to school in time." I rise, pick up my clothes to take them with me to the bathroom. Soda doesn't move, and I turn my head.

"Yeah. About that," he says with a voice that makes me freeze. His eyes doesn't completely meet mine. "I ain't goin' today."

"What?"

This time, he looks at me sadly. "I told you. I'm gonna drop out. Figured it's pointless to go anymore. I start workin' full time at the DX next week. They had an earlier opening for me."

"Oh." Somehow I had thought he would at least end the semester. Not that that hade made anything different for me, I still will miss him in High school. I don't know what else to say, so instead, I just grip my clothes tighter, throws a last glance at my brother before I walk out of the room.

xXx

My face in the mirror is bad. The nose looks better but has a nasty color around, my lip is swollen, the wound crimson red. I wash myself carefully, then get dressed. While I drag my sweater over my head, Darry yells at me to hurry up, and I hear the sound of a car stopping outside our house, car doors slammed, front door open up. I unlock the door and leave the bathroom. Steve walks past me, heading for Soda's room, I'm sure. He stares at me, but he doesn't say anything. I guess he knows Soda will tell him all he wants to know about my appearence. If he wants to know anything at all. I know I'm not high on his priority-list.

Two-Bit and Johnny stands in our kitchen when I enter, our sideburned friend munching on a sandwich. When he sees me he puts the other hand above his heart.

"Golly, look at that one!"

"You saw me yesterday. And you don't have to talk with food in your mouth," I snort at him. I'm about to sit down and eat, but Darry stops me.

"You okay, Ponyboy?"

"Yeah."

I can see Johnny watch me. I give him a little smile, to reassure him it's true, even if that's a lie. Darry gives me my breakfast at the same time Soda and Steve drops in.

I told my brothers about the Soc yesterday. I told them I went to see Mom and Dad and that I was sorry for breaking my promise, and that this blonde guy came when I waited for the bus home. For some reason, I have almost even convinced myself that it was what happened by now.

I wish it badly. It's better than the truth.

xXx

_Lawton, Oklahoma, 1966_

He doesn't have a phone, but there's a payphone in the little cornershop a mile from his new apartment. He puts a dime into it, dials. It takes five signals before someone picks up.

"_Hello?_"

He dips his head, looking around before he says, quietly, "It's me." He doesn't say his name, it's still not him. He never got used to call himself Matthew. Luke will take even longer, because the Luke in his head is someone else.

"_Where are you? Finally on your way? I told you to leave Tulsa earlier._"

He grips the receiver tighter. "I know. Somethin' came up. I'm in Lawton."

"_You're not goin' back, are you?_" The voice in the other end sighs. "_Don't do anythin' stupid, Henry._"

"Don't call me that."

"_Fine. Matthew-_"

"Luke! I'm Luke! Goddamnit." He frowns, wipes his nose. "I have to go back for a little while."

"_Why? People knows you there, _Luke." She says the name with emphasis. "_What did you do?_"

"I just forgot somethin'." There's a little tone in the receiver. "Time's up. I have to go."

"_Wait, Luke-_"

He hangs up.

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

Someone stops me in the hallway before the first bell, and I look up. It's Mrs. Thomas.

"My God, Ponyboy. What happened?" Her voice almost jumps up a pitch.

I feel uncomfortable under her stare. "I - it was just a fight." I shove my hands down in my pockets, trying to look casual. She grips my chin, but I take a step back, not wanting her to do that. She frowns.

"A fight?"

I nod. She hastily throws a glance on the clock on the wall. It's only five minutes left to first class.

"I'll have to take you to the nurse," she says a bit stressed. "Come along."

I can't see why. "It's okay," I hurry to say, not moving. "My brother already checked it. I'm fine."

Her eyes narrows. "Your brother?" she echoes, sounding a bit worried.

I'm afraid I said something wrong. The way she looks at me make me realize what she's thinking. "It wasn't him!" I burst out, feeling myself go pale at the unspoken accusation. I take another step back.

Her mouth turns to a thin line. "You need to see some medical staff, Ponyboy."

I sigh, knowing it won't matter what I say.

"Follow me, " Mrs. Thomas continues, and I know I must, even if I really don't want to. She takes me down the hallway, first stops by the office, makes me wait outside when she speaks with a free colleague to take her class for a while, and then she takes my arm, leads me to the nurse. I almost find it hard to breathe.

I have to sit on the gurney while the school nurse, Mrs. Sullivan, examine my face. My teacher stands with her arms crossed behind her, watching all the time. I sit on my hands so they won't shake. I don't know why they do.

"It's nothing serious," Mrs. Sullivan finally says. "Just keep it clean and don't poke at it, and you will heal just fine." She throws a glance backwards, then face me again.

"Take off your sweater, please."

I blush hard. "Um, why?"

"I need to check you."

Fortunately, my teacher leaves the room before I start to drag my shirt over my head. Mrs. Sullivan tells me to stand on the floor, and I do, and she feels at my ribs, turns me around to look at my back. I'm not stupid. I know she's looking for signs of abuse.

"You can get dressed again." She leaves the room too, and when I'm finished with my sweater, I don't know what to do. If I have to stay, or if I can leave. I feel miserable.

I chew on my nails when they both come back after ten minutes. I quickly drop my hand.

"Ponyboy, who did this to your face?" the nurse asks me.

"It was- it was a, um... a Soc." I know my stutter will make it worse, but I didn't mean to. I just don't know what to say.

"A Soc?" Mrs. Thomas asks, eyebrows slightly raised.

"You know... uh, a rich kid." I can tell she doesn't believe me. I'm scared.

"You know his name?"

I try to come up with something, but realize I can make the situation even worse if they can prove that I'm lying. So I shake my head, looking down. "No."

Mrs. Thomas watch me in silence for a moment, and then she says, "You know I have to report this to the social services. It's my duty as a teacher if I suspect abuse from home."

She can't do that! The world starts spinning. I have to grab the gurney with one hand, the other cover my mouth. I feel nauseous.

"Talk to me, Ponyboy. I can help you." I think she tries to smile nicely, reassuring, but to me, it almost looks evil. "You don't have to be afraid. Just tell me the truth."

I drop my hand. "Please don't report it. It wasn't my brother, I _promise_. It really wasn't him, he would never do that." I know I sound desperate. I have to convince her. "Please. Don't take me away from my family. I need them."

But all she says is, "I'll take you to your class. Thank you, Mrs. Sullivan."

"It wasn't Darry," I say again, clenching my fists, feeling the pain start to throb in my head. She doesn't answer me, just looks at me, with a sad expression. I hate her.

xXx

_Lawton, Oklahoma, 1966_

He pace the room. It's not easy, it's almost completely covered because of the couch, the bed and the table, and doesn't leave much floor for walk on, but he can't sit still. He has to move, to think. He has already smashed his fist into the wall.

He knows he has to be careful. Sometimes he thinks the best he can do is jump into his car and drive to California, or Mexico, or Canada, and be Luke, like the plan. Even if the boy talks, and he's sure he' has already did, he has the time to get away. But something stop him.

It's like he can't be Luke when the boy knows he's not. Somehow it haunts him. It makes him Henry.

Sarah knows of course. But she's different. She's... she's... God, she's waiting for him. He grabs his keys from the coffee table. Damn it. He doesn't know what to do. Going back north, or going west.

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1956_

_He kiss her on her cheek._

_"Hello, dear."_

_She turns around, smiles big. "Darrel? You're home early." She puts her arms around him for a second. He hugs her back._

_"Yeah." They let go, and he sits down at the table. Through the open door he can see Pony playing with his blocks in the living room. His small hands grabs one piece after another, determined to build a tower, but it falls all the time._

_"Where's Darry and Soda?"_

_Anne picks up the bowl and the whisk, continues to stir the batter. "They went to the park." She watch his face. "Darrel, what is it?"_

_She always can sense when something is wrong. He can never hide things from her. He clears his throat. "I met someone at Don's a couple of days ago. Actually, Soda and I bumped into him earlier that day and I asked him to come there."_

_Her eyes narrows, her hand stops. "Who? Why do I have a feeling I ain't goin' to like this?"_

_"You probably won't. Remember Henry Morgan?"_

_Anne stiffens. Then she sighs. "I wish I didn't. Darrel, you didn't- oh, no, you did!" Her eyes widen._

_He looks desperate. "It just feels like I owe him somethin'."_

_She puts the bowl down on the counter, drags out a chair to sit down in front of him. "You certainly don't!" She takes his hand. "I don't want him in our lives, Darrel. In _your_ life!" She almost pleads him, and he shakes his head._

_"Please, Anne. You've always been forgiving before. It's in your nature." He looks down. "He was my best friend once, you know that."_

_"He also almost put you in prison. And you know how much he disliked me. You can't mean-"_

_"Anne," he interrupt her. "Give him a chance. It's all I'm asking for. For my sake."_

_She hesitates. Then, "No. No, Darrel. I can't. I'm sorry." She rise, disappears out into the living room. He follows, and for some reason, he reach out and grabs her arm, turns her around to face him._

_"You don't know how bad I feel!" he almost shouts. He just need her to understand. Her eyes fills with tears._

_"If you love me, you won't see him again."_

_"Anne. I do love you. But I have to talk to him."_

_"You chose him over me?"_

_They almost never argue. It feels strange when angry words fly, both unused to hissing at each other, both unsure what to say and how to stop it. They try to keep it low, for the boy. Ponyboy place a block upon the other, turning his head, looks at them. They both gets silent. Anne disappears into the bedroom, crying._

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

My backpack feels heavy. I drag my feet after me when I walk home, my thoughts occupied of what happened in school. I'm afraid to go home, to meet my brothers. It feels like I've failed them. All I do is keeping secrets and lie to them and not using my head, and then I get into trouble. But this time, Darry might be in trouble too. Maybe we don't get along that much, but I know he would never hit me. I wonder what will happen now.

I reach our house and walk inside. Soda's not here, but I'm not surprised by that. Why would he? He might not be in school, but he would never stay home a whole day long all alone. I walk to my room and stand there for a while. I wonder if I should start packing already. But I can't. Instead, I walk to stand outside another door, touch the surface with my palms, leaning my forhead against it. I haven't been in there since before the...

...since before the murder.

I open up. Their bed is made. Mom's reading glasses and a book lies on top of the quilt, waiting for her to come home and finish the story. On Dad's nightstand lies a newspaper. I don't dare to walk closer, to look at the date. I'm sure it will show the date they died. In here, the time stands still. It's dusty. A shirt hangs on its hanger on the closet door. A shoe lies halfway under the bed. I can feel their scent, Mom's perfume, Dad's after shave, the scent of childhood and safety.

I close the door behind me, sits down on the floor to lean against it.

"I miss you," I tell them. "I really do." I try to cry, but I can't. I feel too empty.

* * *

_Reviews are very, very much appreciated. _

_Don't own it, Hinton does.  
_


	3. The revelation

**Deceiver**

**Chapter Three - The revelation**

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1940_

_He hear the news when his Mom tells them to his Dad. He's standing just outside the kitchen, eavesdropping at them where they are sitting by the table, speaking in hushed voices. He doesn't hesitate - in a second, he is out onto the streets. They only live five houses apart, but he runs the other way - he knows where to find him.  
_

_There's an abandoned industry area far east, and signs warns about the danger of the place, but he climbs the fence anyway, jumps down on the other side. It's not the first time they're here, and they really don't care about the warnings. The worst things ever happened to them here, are just bruises and a sprained ankle anyway. _

_During the years, the grass has cracked the asphalt in several places, bushes has started to grown against the concrete walls. Someone has sometimes in the past broken up one of the doors, and it hangs on its hinges, welcoming them into the dark if they want to. But they have only been in there a few times with flashlights, nothing interesting could be found, no__ne of them dares to admit that its was pretty scary,_ and their favorite spot is a hidden alcove around the corner instead.  


_He finds him there, like he knew he would.  
_

_Darrel Curtis wipes his eyes, straighten up his back and even if it should be okay to cry over a decreased father, even in his age, even in this neighbourhood, he still doesn't want people to see his red rimmed eyes. Not even his best friend._

_"I just heard," Henry says, breathless, in front of him, hands on his knees. He swallows, knowing Darrel probably wants to be alone, but he can't leave him. Not like this. And he says, "I'm sorry."_

_"Yeah." Darrel blinks furiously. His hands lie clenched in his lap._

_Henry tries to catch his breath, later sits down next to him, searching for more words to say, but finds none. Words won't bring Darrel's dad back anyway. So they sit in silence._

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

Someone tries to open the door, but I'm in the way, sleeping on the hard floor.

"Pone? Are you in there?" Soda sounds worried. I move, slightly at first, then sit up and rub my eyes. The door opens up a few inches more when the immediately pressure from my body disappears.

I feel disoriented, blink tiredly while I take in my surrounding, recognize it. I'm in Mom and Dad's bedroom, still. I don't know how I fell asleep though, don't know what time it is. It's dark outside the window.

"Pone!" Soda says again, urging.

"Yeah," I mutter.

"What's wrong?" My brother push at the door, but my back is stopping it. "C'mon, let me in."

I scoot over to the side, so he can open up completely. I stare up at him, but he sinks down on his knees in front of me.

"What are you doin' in here?" he asks gentle, placing a hand on my shoulder. I can see his eyes travel around the room, and there is sadness in them. I know he hasn't been in here either, after our parents' death.

"I'm sorry," I mumble. I It almost feels like I have done a break in, something illegal and wrong, into a sanctuary. "I know I shouldn't-"

"Hey," Soda interrupts me. "It's okay. You're allowed to be in here if you want." He watch me closely. "What's the matter, Pone?"

I swallow. "Soda..." I know I have to tell him. Everything. It's too much for me to handle alone. But I can't. Not in here. Maybe it sounds ridiculous, but I don't want my parents to listen. And it feels like they can in here.

Like he can read my mind, Soda rises, drags me up on my feet and leads me out. He slowly closes the door behind us before we continue into the living room, with his hand on my back all the way. Steve looks up from his spot on the couch, and I stop short. I didn't know he was here.

"So you found him," Steve smirks.

"I wasn't gone," I defend myself, glaring. Soda sighs, and I throw a glance at him, feeling how my expression changes. What if I lose him? What if I lose them, my brothers? What if I will be taken away? I shiver, and Soda notices. Of course he does.

"I just didn't knew were you where," he says. "But I saw your backpack and shoes, and I figured not even you would run away barefoot in the snow." He smiles, but when I don't return it, it disappears from his face. "Tell me, Pone. Somethin' happened today." It's not a question.

I open my mouth but nothing comes out.

"Pony?"

I sniff, feeling embarrassed because of it. I didn't cried before, so why now, with audience? I can feel Steve's eyes on me. Soda looks at him, makes an almost unnoticeable movement with his head, and I can't really believe Steve gets it, but he does. He rises, snatching his cigarette pack from the table and his coat from the spot beside him.

"I should be goin', I have some stuff to do." He sticks one arm into a sleeve on his jacket. "See ya later," he says to Soda. And then, to my surprise, "Bye, kid."

The door slams and Soda's eyes meets mine."We're alone," he tells me, unnecessary.

I dip my head, stare down at the floor instead, take a deep breath and let the words stream out of me. "Shethinksit'sDarry."

"Mm, what?" Soda sounds confused.

I try again. "My teacher." I wave my hand in front of my face, takes it slower this time. "She thinks it's Darry." Saying it makes the first tear drop. Angrily at myself, I wipe it away with my sleeve. "I told her it was a Soc but she didn't believe me. She could tell I lied so now she thinks it's Darry."

Soda frowns. "What? But he wouldn't-" he interrupts himself. "What did she say, Pone?"

I don't know why I blush. Maybe because it's my fault, this. "She- she said she should report it. To... ya know, the- the social services."

I have never seen Soda so angry before. He takes my arm, sits me down in the recliner before he walks over to the phone and snatch the receiver. I watch him punch in the number, then wait. All the time his eyes are on me, burning, but I know I'm not his target.

"Hey," he suddenly says. "I wanna speak with Darrel Curtis." Pause. "His brother Sodapop." He twirls the cord around his fingers. "'Kay. Can you please tell him to hurry home? It's a family matter." Pause. "Yeah, it's important." His eyes drifts from me, and he turns his back on me. "Thanks." He slams the phone down.

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1940_

_It takes over an hour until he manages to voice his fear. By then, clouds hide the sun, the chill air makes goosebumps on their arms.  
_

_"So... what happens now? Are you stayin' in Tulsa or..." He lets the words trail off. Darrel's mom can never afford the house by herself. They could nearly not afford it before.  
_

_"I think my grandparents will move in," Darrel says, toneless. Then, "Damnit."_

_There's one more thing Henry wants to know. "So... what happened?" It doesn't feels good to ask, but he met Darrel's old man yesterday, and he seemed fine then.  
_

_Darrel's eyes are blank. "It was somethin' with his heart."  
_

_"Heart attack?"  
_

_"Hell should I know? They won't tell me." Darrel finally looks at him. "I want a beer."  
_

_They leave, to find Anthony and his brother, and then they sit in their garage, gulping alcohol.  
_

_When he gets home after dark, drunk and dizzy, he takes the beatings caused by running off without telling and his delirious state. But that is just like any other cause, it's not really the reason why. It never is. But he takes it easily anyway- his friend needed him. Bruises are a low price to pay for that. He knows Darrel will do the same for him. Always._

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

I have never seen Darry so furious. He was calm when he asked me the questions, a lot of them, and I tried to answer them all, what Mrs. Thomas said, exact words, and what Mrs. Sullivan did, exact things.

And after that, he got this glow in his eyes. "I'll follow you to school tomorrow," was all he said to me, but I could see the rage even though he tried to hide it.

I have to admit that I'm a little scared of him. I don't recognize him.

When we crawl to bed this night, I confess it to Soda, but he only smiles sadly at me. He has been quiet the whole evening, and I wonder what's going on in his head. But it's not until we lie in the dark he finally seems to put it together. I'm not sure if I did my slip-up on purpose or not, but I almost feel relieved when he brings it up.

"Pone," he says, and then he's silent for a moment. "Was it a lie?"

I knew it would come, I know what he's thinking of, but I ask anyway. "What do you mean?" I hold my breath. He doesn't disappoint me.

"You said your teacher could tell that you lied to her. Did you?" I can feel how he turns in bed to face me. I'm still on my back, blinking against the ceiling even though I can't see anything. It's too dark for that.

"Did you lie to me too, Pone?" He sounds hurt. He already knows the answer. "If it wasn't a Soc, then who was it?" His hand finds my arm, shakes it gentle. "Pone? Was it that guy on the cemetery? The brother?"

I breathe. "Yeah. Um..."

I wonder if he'll get angry at me, but he doesn't. He only sighs, deeply, concerned. "I should've known," he says to himself. "I should've."

"No," I whisper. "Beacuse-"

I don't know if he heard me, he just continues, harsh this time. He won't let anyone get away with this. "What was his name, Pone? The brother? Do ya know?"

I close my eyes, hard. It doesn't change anything, it doesn't gets any darker, it only hurts my eyes, but I don't want to see. I can sense him. Hear his voice while I'm talking.

_I know - _

"Soda... it wasn't his brother."

-_you can keep- _

"It wasn't him. They only pretend it was him. In the car. It wasn't him, it was his brother."

-_a secret._

"I didn't get much out of that," Soda says. I can feel how he sits up by now. "_Who _was in the car?"

I keep my eyes closed. "It was Luke in the car. Henry... he was at the cemetery. It was him who - he's alive. And his brother killed them 'cause he had cancer."

Soda's hand touch my face. "You dreamt that?" he asks me. I hear the little shiver in his voice. He knows it's not a dream.

So I tell him again. His hand leaves my face, finds the switch to the lamp on the nightstand. Then he calls for Darry. It's repeated again. All my secrets floating up to the surface.

All the time I keep my eyes closed. I don't want to meet theirs.

xXx

_Lawton, Oklahoma, 1966_

He twists and turns in the uncomfortable bed, remembering his own, remembering the hard bunk bed in prison. This is better than the latter, still, he left his own to drive to Sarah's warm, but ended up here, only because of the boy.

He doesn't leave his mind. He remember the summer, ten years ago. The little boy. Darrel's boy.

He can't sleep, so he drinks. Thrash the beer cans under his foot, kicks them into the wall. There are feelings he can't explain, feelings he hadn't thought he would feel again after it was done. When it was done, he was supposed to be free, free from his past, from everything. That was what they said, Luke and himself, it was the goddamn fucking _plan_, why they even crashed the car into the tree that day, not long time ago.

But how will he be able to do it now?

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1956_

_He steps into their house for the first time. He knows they argued; Darrel told him. He told him Anne was insecure, unsure to meet him. He never said afraid, but Henry knows._

_'She should be,' he didn't say. Just, "Oh. Maybe I shouldn't..."_

_But Darrel assured him. "It's fine. I want you to meet my family." And now he's here._

_Anne wipes her hands on a blue apron, takes his hand. Hers are small, cool. There's the little boy he already met, Soda. The bigger boy, named after his father. Darry is a big ten year old, with a self confidence Henry never felt himself. Then he sees the third little boy, playing with a wooden toy car, makes it run over the floor. He looks up with green eyes._

_"This is Ponyboy."_

_The boy doesn't talk. The single evening, he doesn't hear him say a word. But he does speak, in his own little way, with smiles and sounds and pointing fingers. And Henry feels almost alive when he throws football with Darry, when he throws the two youngest high in the air, hearing Soda cheer, "One more time, uncle Henry! It's _my_ turn now, not Pony's! I'm next!"_

_It's like theater. Sometimes it feels like it's two of him, one acting, one standing on the side, watching this perfect family, and he looks at Darrel, thinks_

You stole it from me.

_It's getting dark when Anne excuses herself with the dishes, when Darrel gets the beers, when the two oldest boys wrestles and Soda's nose springs to bleed. And then there's only the two of them, him and the little boy, the youngest, the one who doesn't talk, when Darrel takes his other boys inside.  
_

_Ponyboy plays with a little bug. He watch it crawl over the grass, lets it up on his hand, shrieks in delightful horror at its six legs and black, shiny color. And Henry envy him. Once, he was like that, young and innocent, before he was destroyed._

_That's the right word for it. It's him who is destroyed. Used. Damaged. The beer makes him light-headed and dizzy, and before he knows it, he wobbles on his feet, crash down in the grass next to the little warm body._

_"That's your toy?" he points at the little bug. Pony watch him, suddenly wary, and Henry feels the rage being built, because why is he_ _fucking_ scared_, hasn't he been nice all evening?_

_"You're not much of a talker, huh?" Henry mocks. "I bet you can keep a secret."_

_Silence._

_"Well, can you boy? Wanna hear it?"_

_He doesn't know why it seems important to tell him, but it's like it's pouring out of him, like he wants to create a crack in the perfect picture he's been watching all night. And what's easier, than crack a little boy?_

_He should know. He was that boy once._

_He picks up the little bug, holds it between his thumb and index finger, holds it in front of Ponyboy's eyes. And then he says it, while squeezing._

_"I really hate your pa. I'll crush him like the bug."_

_Ponyboy flinch when he drops the dead insect into the grass. His eyes are wide. His lip trembles. Henry suddenly regrets everything, but it's too late to back down. His drunk mind screams at him that he's so _stupid, fix this!_ and he puts his mouth near the boys ear,says, "Don't tell anyone, and I mean it!"_

_A week later, he's invited again, and he walks to the house, almost shivering, waiting for a scolding, a beating, a 'get out and never come back' but nothing happens, and he knows..._

_...the boy really kept it a secret._

* * *

_Thank you so much for reading! Review?  
_


	4. The principal

**Deceiver**

**Chapter Four - The principal  
**

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

I thought everything was too much for me to handle, but obviously, it is for my brothers too. It's morning, and we try to eat breakfast, but I doubt any of us can get something down. At least, I can't. I nibble on my sandwich, trying to swallow the tiny pieces with chocolate milk, but the food stops in my throat, gagging me. I put my sandwich back on the table with a sigh. I'm not hungry anyway.

Darry sits opposite me, looking awfully tired. The only thing in front of him is a cup of strong coffee, and I know it's really strong. I saw him make it, how many extra spoons he put in the percolator.

He stayed in Soda's room for hours tonight, and I repeatedly told them everything, at least almost everything, until I couldn't keep my eyes open. But I kept hearing their voices, soft, concerned, angry, while I drifted off to sleep. Nightmares haunted me like they always do nowadays, but I guess I was lucky tonight; no waking up screaming, and I don't remember them either. Only that I woke up, shivering and sweaty, with Soda deep asleep beside me.

My fingers crumble the edges of my sandwich while I'm lost in my thoughts.

"I don't want you to go home by yourself from school," Darry suddenly says. Then, "I'll talk to Dally."

My head snaps up. "Dally?"

My oldest brother gives me a tired smile. "Yeah. I can't pick you up, Soda starts working next week and everyone else got school at the time. Soda can come today, but-"

I don't say _I don't need a sitter_, because honestly, I know I do need one, and I know I will feel safe with Soda and Dal. Safer, at least.

"What are we gonna do?" My voice is low. I pick up my glass, takes a small sip. "Are you gonna talk to the fuzz?"

Darry sighs. "Yeah. I just hope they'll listen."

"But," I say, "if he was in prison, they must have his fingerprints, right? And then they can see that he's still alive."

Darry leans back in his chair. "I don't want you to worry about these things, Pone. Leave it to me."

I almost snort at him. Leave it to _him_? How could that be even possible? It's _my_ nightmares, _my_ memories, it was me who met the guy. It was _me_ he told everything to. I can't drop this like it's nothing.

But I nod, just to make him happy.

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1941_

_Darrel shows up in his thin summer jacket despite the snow. His ears and nose are red, his arms curled tight around his body.  
_

_"Grandma needs a lot of medication," he says, before Henry has the time to say anything. But he wouldn't anyway, he knows the untold rules. They never speak about their home lives, he never tells about the beatings, Darrel never about how poor they are. But they both know. How could they not? They avoid each other's homes like the plague, Henry's because of his dad, Darrel's because of the small space. They moved some months ago, lives four people in two rooms and a kitchen.  
_

_"Anthony's place?" Henry asks instead, getting a nod for reply. So they turn on their heels, start walking. _

_When they show up in Tony's garage, Mike is there as well. _

_"Darrel," the fat boy says from his spot in the corner, "you still owe me, buddy." His voice is friendly, but they all can hear the undertone.  
_

_Darrel snorts anyway. "Soon. Promise. I already told you that."_

_Mike frowns a bit, rises, comes closer. The smile is gone."Yeah, you've told me that for weeks."_

_"Knock it off," Henry says, stepping up between them. Not that he's afraid they will start a fight - if they do, Darrel will win. But his friend shoves him aside._

_"You tellin' me I'm lyin'?" he barks at Mike when he meets his face undisturbed._

_Anthony lit a cigarette behind them. "Nobody's lyin'. Mike, com'here."_

_The fat boy scowl, but does as Tony says, takes a cigarette when he's offered one. Henry eyes Darrel, who stands stiff on the floor. He knows that the money issue, the lack of dollar bills in his pockets, are eating him. _

_He wish he could help him, but all he got is enough for his own drinks and smokes. And damn, he needs them.  
_

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

Darry parks at the school's parking lot, takes out the keys and eyes me.

"Come on."

I loosen up my seatbelt, open up the passenger door and climb out. I don't want to enter the school again since yesterday, but I know I have no choice. I just hope Darry can fix this. He place a hand on my shoulder as we walk inside, but it doesn't feel comforting. His hand grips too hard, but I guess it's because he's nervous. He holds his jaw tight - that's how I can tell.

Other students turn their heads as we walk by, on our way to the principal's office. I pretend not to notice. I see James by his locker, and his slightly raised eyebrows, but I look away.

Outside Mr. Sanford's door, his secretary tells us to wait, and we sit down in a pair of plastic chairs. I wonder why there always has to be plastic chairs in waiting rooms, like we're not supposed being comfortable. I fiddle with the straps to my backpack. Now and then I glance up at my brother, but he stares straight forward, arms crossed.

"Hello, Mr. Curtis." The voice, and the choise of name, startles me. I know Darry is Mr. Curtis too, but it feels so weird to hear someone call him that. Mr. Sanford and my brother shakes hand before I've managed to get up on my feet, and then my principal shakes my hand too. He smiles at us, and we both follow him in to his office. He offers us to sit down in leather chairs in front of his desk. We do.

"What brings you here, Mr. Curtis? Ponyboy?" Mr. Sanford looks at us above his glasses. For some reason, authority has always make me nervous, so I look down to not meet his eyes. But Darry stands strong, as always.

"Call me Darrel, please." I guess Darry also feels uncomfortable by be called Dad's name. "And the reason, Mr. Sanford," he continues, "is that one of my brother's teachers threatened him yesterday."

I glance up at Darry, then to my principal, who now leans slightly forward, a frown appears on his forehead.

"Threatened?"

"Yes. I call it threatened when someone tells him she will report his brother for abuse, and take him away from his family. He was really upset yesterday."

I blush. Mr. Sanford throws a quick glance at me before he returns to look at Darry, and I shrink, feeling like a little kid. God, why am I always scared?

"I presume you're talking about Mrs. Thomas," Mr. Sanford says. "She came to me yesterday after school, worried about Ponyboy's home situation."

"There is nothing to be worried about, " Darry says sternly. "I didn't hit my brother." I can see how he clench his fists in his lap. Luckily, Mr. Sanford doesn't. He just leans back again, making the armchair he sits in creak.

"I remember you as a good student, Darrel. But I have to admit, I called the principal at Will Rogers after the talk with Mrs. Thomas." He smiles. "He had only good words to say about you too. Of course, I can't be sure, but what we both remembers about you, I highly doubt you were the one hitting Ponyboy. And we're very much aware of the... situation between some social groups in this town."

I feel so relieved.

"So there will be no report to the social services?" Darry asks. "They already look us up regularly, you know."

"Not from the school, no," Mr. Sanford says. "But I'm sorry, I have no saying in what Mrs. Thomas does as a private person."

My world falls again, and I stare at my brother. My heart pounds hard in my chest, but all Darry does is drag a hand over his face, sighing. There is nothing more we can do here.

"Come on, Pone," he says, rises.

"Just a second." Mr. Sanford takes a small piece of paper, writes me a note. "Take this to your teacher, Ponyboy."

The hallways are empty now, with every student inside the classrooms. I don't want to go to class, to meet Mrs. Thomas and hand her the note that says why I'm late. She will know. And I realize, I don't want her to meet Darry. I can only guess how he looks like in other's eyes, big and scary, with lots of muscles, and even if he doesn't has grease in his hair, it shows he's from the east side. The bad side. I doubt my teacher would report us if we were Socs.

We stop outside my classroom, and I bite my lip, hold my note so hard I accidentally wrinkle it. Darry puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Don't worry, Pone," he says. "And remember, don't go home by yourself, okay? Soda will show up in time. I hope," he adds, with a smirk. "If he doesn't, wait inside."

"Okay."

I follow him with my gaze as he walks away, and not until he has rounded the corner I turn around, thinking about ditching even if I know it probably only will make things worse.

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1956_

_There are all smiling faces, and he hands the flowers to Mrs. Curtis. Anne. They talked about dropping the formalities last time._

_"Oh. How nice. Thank you," she says, and then turns around. "Boys, be a little more quiet, please." She disappears into the kitchen._

_Darrel puts an arm around his shoulders for a moment, shows him inside for a second time. He's wary. Scans the room. Darry tells Soda to shut up, Soda sticks out his tongue. Ponyboy-_

_The little boy's eyes widen, and he takes a small step, hides behind his brother's back. Henry can see his lips move, making Soda bounce around._

_"What did'ya say, Pone?"_

_He can hear the words now, the words coming out from Ponyboy's mouth. "He's mean. Bugman."_

_Henry stops short. God, the boy is telling them. Bugman. He remembers how he squeezed the little black insect in front of the boy's eyes. It could be something to laugh about, 'bugman', but he doesn't. This can destroy everything. Stepping closer to the boys, he can hear Soda giggle._

_"Boogeyman? Yeah, let's play that!"_

_Anne comes out with the flowers in a vase, puts them on the coffee table. "They're beautiful," she says to him._

_He clears his throat, nodding at the boy. "He can talk?" he asks. _

_Anne laughs. "Of course he can. He just prefers not to."_

_"It's kind of nice," Darrel smiles, "to get a quiet boy after those two." He gestures at his two oldest. "At least after we stopped worrying."_

_Someone grabs his hand, and he almost jerks. He hates being touched when not prepared. But it's only Soda._

_"Uncle Henry? I've made up a game!" Soda says proudly. "It's called boogeyman!"_

_"Boogeyman?" he succeeds to hold his voice steady, 'bugman' still lingers in his mind. It's him. He's bugman. He's the little boy's boogeyman._

_"Mhm!" Soda nods frantically. "Me and Pony are hidin' and you'll come and get us. Okay? You'll be boogeyman." He lets go of his hand, holds up his index finger. "Don't look!"_

_He forces himself to laugh. "Okay."_

_He closes his eyes._

_The sound of small feet running can be heard over the voices of Darrel and Anne, over Soda's voice telling Pony to hurry up and hide. And then, "We're done, uncle Henry!"_

_The house isn't big. He finds them easily, even if he pretends not to. But sooner than later, he has to peek under the bed, and there they are, against the wall, and he sticks in his hand, dragging out a laughing Soda, sticks in his hand to drag out the other boy-_

_he lets go when he screams._

_"I'm so sorry," he says when Anne rushes in, even if he's not. _

_"It's okay," Anne says, picking up her youngest. "Oh, Pony, it was just a game."_

_"It was funny," Soda grins. "Wasn't it? I wanna do it again!"_

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

I refuse to look at Mrs. Thomas when I hand her the note. She takes it, tells me to go to my seat. When I walk down between the benches, it feels like everyone is staring at me. I'm relieved when I finally can sit down, and my teacher continues the class.

But as always, I can't concentrate. I'm so, so disappointed. I really liked her once, I thought she was a good teacher, and she seemed to care, but now I don't know. I find myself glaring at her, and she seems to be determined to avoid my stare. Every time she looks out over the class, she's ignoring me. So I put my elbow down on the table, lean my chin in my hand and doodle in my notebook. Why should I care about school anyway?

When my school day is over, finally, I find Soda leaning against the brick wall just outside the door.

"Hey, Pone." He doesn't smile, just watch me closely. "So..?" he says.

"What?"

"I know you guys met up with the principal."

"He won't report it," I tell him. He relaxes so much it shows, but I have to continue. "She still does, though."

Soda stiffens again, mutters some curses before he takes my arm and starts to head for home. He acts a bit strange. Instead of walk causally, bouncing or curious like he use to, he's wary, lets his head turn from side to side, like he's walking over a giant street and needs to look out for cars. And he walks fast - I have to trot to keep up.

"Soda," I complain. My backpack is heavy.

"Sorry," he offers, but he doesn't slow down a bit. At first I think he's afraid, but he can't be, he's never afraid, not like I. Then it hits me he's just worried.

I don't say anything more until we finally gets home.I drop down in the couch, tired, close my eyes for a little while. The last days, the last months, has been tough. Sometimes I just want to sleep, for a long, long, time. Without nightmares.

Ten minutes later, the phone rings, wakes me up. Soda answers, and by his talk I can tell it's Darry.

"It's all right," I can hear Soda say. "No, no one." Then, "Okay, fine."

I yawn, rummage my bag for my homework, trying to close down all my feelings. But it's hopeless. Soda says goodbye and puts down the receiver.

I look at him. "You think - um, you think Mrs. Garcia will show up?"

Soda stares around the room. "Damnit," he says. He walks over to the coffee table, starts collecting all the dirty dishes which stands there. "Help me out," he snaps. "It's messy."

"Oh." I rise. "Okay."

We have to clean for more than an hour before he's satisfied.

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

It's cold in the car. He wish he could leave, to get a coffee, but he doesn't, he have to stay, to watch.

The house looks the same. A bit more rough, perhaps. The paint more peeled off, the fence a bit more rusty, a small crack in a window poorly fixed with a piece of duct tape. It seems quiet and empty, and he guess they are in school.

If they still live there. He can't be sure, after all, they are just boys, orphaned, and what he remembers, they doesn't have any relative who could move in with them. How old is the oldest, Darrel junior? Ten years old ten years ago makes him twenty. Sodapop sixteen. The youngest, Ponyboy, will turn fourteen in the summer. Yeah. It's possible they don't live here anymore.

He suddenly straightens up before shrinking down in the seat again. Two boys walk down the street, in a hurry it seems. He recognize the shortest, figures out who the other is. So they still stick around.

He waits until they have disappeared behind the door, closed it firmly behind their backs, before he lit up a cigarette. Ponyboy has told them. The way they both acted reveals it, and he grins for himself.

* * *

_I hope you still enjoy. Thank you for reading!_


	5. The car

**Deceiver**

**Chapter Five - The car**

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

Darry drops his keys and wallet on the coffee table, sits himself down with a sigh in the recliner. He looks around in the room, eyes slightly more relaxed at the sight.

"You've cleaned up? Good."

"Yeah," Soda says, standing in the middle of the floor. I sit with my pen in my hand, a paper in front of me. Despite everything that's going on, I know I have to do my homework. There is tension in the room, and Soda looks like he's waiting for something. I don't miss the glance Darry gives me.

"What?" I say, dropping my pen. "You can say it while I'm here." I look between him and Soda, frown when they hesitate. "C'mon," I urge them.

My oldest brother scratches the back of his neck. "All right."

"You went to the station? What did they say?" Soda says before Darry has the time to continue, not able to hold it back anymore. His eyes are almost burning.

Darry sighs again, puts his elbows on his knees, hands in front of his mouth. "Well, the police I talked to were a bit absent-minded, but he told me they would look into it."

I hear Soda mutter a _damnit_, and I look down, bite my lip. Of course they wouldn't listen. We're just poor greasers, why would they? It's the same as always. They have no problem to haul in Dally or Tim or Two-Bit for things they didn't even do, but when we need help, they just don't care.

"Did you tell them everythin'?" I ask, like it would matter.

"What we agreed about, yes."

Not what I agreed about. It was just him and Soda, but I'm not stupid. I know there are things we should be careful to speak out loud. We can't let the Social Services know about the possible threat, so they get the wrong idea that Darry's not able to take care of me. They would probably move me to a boy's home in the blink of an eye if they found out. Even if they believed us or not.

I'm not satisfied yet. "But if they grab him, will they check his fingerprints?" I persist. "They will know he's Henry?"

"Damn, Pone, I don't know." Darry sounds more frustrated by now, his face changes like he wears a mask that is slowly falling off. He rubs his temple. "I'll go back in a few days and see."

I guess that's the only thing we can do for now. And maybe, if we're lucky, he's _not_ a threat to us anymore. He did say that he wouldn't do us anything, that he would leave town. Even if I should prefer to know where he is, in prison for what he did to our parents, Mom and Dad still won't come back no matter what we do.

Sometimes I forget that.

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

The weekend pass without anything unusual. Johnny and I go to the movies, and Soda tags along with a cursing Steve. I know he doesn't want to come, but then they just end up talking with some girls anyway, and he seems happy enough. I wonder what Sandy and Evie would say about it, though, but that's not my business. I still don't get this thing with girls, so I can't really judge them.

My brothers make sure I'm not alone for a second. If Soda can't, they ask Two-Bit or Dally, and even if I really like the company of others when I walk down our streets, I kind of feel ridiculous. I'm not a baby. Sometimes it's just not funny to be the youngest, the one everyone feels they have to protect. Even Johnny seems more alert when we're out, and he's nearly my size. I can take everyone he can take. So my mood is not the best, and I wonder how long we have to keep up with this, when we can start to live a normal life again. Or as normal as we can, without our parents. When my brothers will stop whispering between them. It feels like they don't tell me anything.

And what if the police never look into it, or never find him? What will happen then? I still thinking of it while I wait for Dally to show up after school on Monday. It's Soda's first workday at the DX, and that doesn't make me feel any better. And Dally is late. It's almost an hour and a half since the last bell rang, and I hope he hasn't forgotten me. Darry wouldn't like it if I walk home by myself, but I swear, soon I'll do it anyway. It's freezing out. I know he said to wait indoors, but I don't want to hang out in an empty hallway.

"Hey, kid." Dally suddenly steps up, punches me gentle on my shoulder while flicking his white blonde bangs away from his eyes.

"Hey," I mutter at him, walk past him and start heading for home. I don't say anything about him being late, it's no use for that. He wouldn't care. He just steps up beside me, lights a cigarette, without saying I'm sorry or tell me why he took his time to come.

Dally is a dropout too, but he's nothing like Soda. I don't really know what he's doing for a living. I doubt his Dad give him much money, and he only ride in rodeo's in the summer. But I would never ask. You just don't ask Dally such things.

He waves with his cigarette while he gives me a detailed version of a fight he and Tim Shepard had with some Socs a couple of days ago. He has a bruise on his face, not much unlike mine, as a proof. "They look fuckin' worse," he tells me, and I believe him.

There's a car on our driveway and I stop short when I see it. Dally stops too, looking wary.

"What the fuck?" He turns to me. "Who's that?"

"I - I don't know."

"Stay here," he says and takes a step, but I grip his sleeve.

"N-no. Let's go to Soda, okay?" And then I start walking back the way we came. I can hear Dally curse behind my back, but he follows. When we're a block away, I glance at him.

"I think - I think it's Mrs. Garcia," I admit. I don't know if flee is the best thing to do, but I just can't show up alone, or with Dally. I think he gets it, because he smirks, and I feel awful.

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1942_

_"No," Darrel says, without emphasis. "It ain't right."_

_"Fuck what's right. Who fuckin' cares?" Henry sucks on his cigarette, inhales hard. It burns in his lungs, his cold isn't completely healed. He's too tired for this, actually.  
_

_"You do if the cops comes." Darrel folds his arms, glares at the door to the shop._

_"We run faster than them," Henry lies, trying to avoid to sigh. "C'mon."_

_"No." But he hesitates. He needs to do it. He knows that. Mike is on him again. He managed to pay his first debt, but now he owes him more, and he still hasn't got a job. No one will hire him. He's only sixteen, dress badly in torn jeans and shoes, doesn't have a car. It's fucking hopeless._

_"I'll do it. You just have to talk to him. He won't even notice, I promise."_

_"Just talk to him?"_

_"Yeah."_

_"I'll kill you if the cops comes."_

_"They won't."_

_Darrel shakes his head, but he doesn't say anything more. He just leaves the wall he stands leaning against, starts walking without a word. Henry smiles. Five minutes later, he follows, open up the door, steps up to the empty counter. He hear voices from somewhere, not far, but he knows Darrel made sure the cashier won't notice._

_He knows what button to press. Smiles at the bills lying there, just waiting to be taken. But he only takes a few, a couple of twenty-dollar bills, and that has to be it. They're not _thieves.

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

The DX comes in sight, and I start to trot over the street. I don't come far until someone grabs the back of my jacket, jerks me backwards. A second later, a car droves by, just a few feet from me.

"Jesus kid!" Dally snarls. "Keep your fuckin' eyes open." He continues his cursing. "You try to get yourself killed?"

I tear myself loose from his grip and stumbles out onto the street again. Another car comes by, steers out of the way and the driver honks irritated.

"Stop it, Dal," I hiss. How can he say something like that? He knows everything that has happened, everything that's still going on. I'm not trying to get myself killed, I'm trying the opposite, and he _knows_ that. But Dallas Winston never apologizes, instead, he grabs me by my jacket again and drags me over to a safer area.

"I should get paid for this fuckin' shitjob," he mutters while opening the door to the DX.

Soda stands behind the counter, chewing on a gum, flipping through a car magazine. A little bell jingle when we open the door, and he looks up, but his grin disappears when he sees us. "Hey, Pone. Dal, what's up?" He sounds worried and I hate it.

"It's a fuckin' social worker at your place." Dally picks out a Pepsi from the fridge nearby, opens it with his teeth. He spits out the cap on the floor, slaps a bill in front of Soda.

"What?" Soda exclaims, looks at me, completely ignoring the payment.

"I don't know," I say to him, eyeing Dal's Pepsi. I want one too, but I have no money. "It looks like her car but I ain't sure."

"Damnit." He looks around. "I can't leave, it's my first day, " he tells me. "I have to stay."

"Well, I ain't goin' home alone as long as she's there," I mutter, folding my arms. A lot of thoughts is racing my head, and the most scary one is that she has come to take me away. And I rather run away and hide for the rest of my life than let that happen. I think Darry and Soda thinks so too. At least Soda.

"I'm gonna call Darry as soon as Will gets back," Soda says. "You can stay here, Pone."

"I can go with Dally someplace."

Soda grabs my arm. "No," he says. "I don't want you out on the streets. You can sit in the staff room, I bet that's okay. You got homework to do, right?"

I wonder when he started to care about homework. Usually it's only Darry who is nagging about it. But I shrug, I do have some work to do, and I guess I can do it here.

The staff room is a small place with a few lockers, a table, four chairs and a bench with a percolator that seems well used. I sit down in one of the chairs, pick up my books. I glance up at Soda, who still lingers in the doorway.

"Just call for me if you need anythin'," he says to me. I smile.

"A Pepsi?"

He rolls his eyes, not surprised at all. "Sure."

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1956_

_His fridge is as empty as his wallet. He only got a couple of dollars left on his last salary, and he has no job to go back to since he were fired. Rent, gas and food eats it all in a couple of weeks, and now he has nothing to live of. _

_He closes the fridge again, leans his head at the cold surface, thinking of Darrel's place that could have been his. Hell, Darrel's fucking _life _could have been his. He pinch the bridge of his nose with two fingers, trying to think. The years in prison has taught him a lot, and he will not do anything that will put him there again._

_He still needs money._

_It's the first time he walks uninvited to Darrel's house, but he knows he's welcome. He always is. The only one that's wary is that little boy, and it's almost fun to watch. To see how far he can go before the kid crumples. It's power. And it's him who possess it this time.  
_

_He knocks at the door and waits._

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

When we gets home, there's a note in our mailbox, telling Darry to call Mrs. Garcia. I want to throw up.

"You think she'll take me away?" I ask Soda, wide-eyed and shaky. But he just flings his arm around my shoulders.

"No way, Pone," he assures me, but I can hear the doubt in his voice. "It's just a crazy teacher's words, right?"

"Yeah, but-"

"No but's. She ain't gonna take you. Promise."

I follow him to the kitchen and watch as he starts with the dinner. He moves easily around, dances to the song on the radio that's blaring from the living room. I wonder how he can be so happy, but when he throws a glance over his shoulder, I can see in his eyes that he's not. He just pretends.

"What about Henry then?" I ask. "You just gonna keep watchin' me all the time or what?"

Soda stops, give me a serious face. "As long as it takes, Pone."

I put my elbow on the table, lean my chin in my hand. "Yeah, but Soda..." I trail off, not knowing what to say. Soda only gives me a little smile. He understands me in a way nobody else can, and I'm so thankful for having him. That's make me even more scared of everything that's happening to us. If they take me away, or if something happens to him, I wouldn't stand it.

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

"Sarah?"

"_God, Hen- Luke!_" She takes a deep breath. "_Where are you? Still in Lawton? Please tell me you're on your way this time. Why don't you call me?_"

"I call you now, don't I?" Then he adds, "I'm in Tulsa." He prepares himself for the scolding, and he's not disappointed. With the phone some inches from his ear, he hear her ramble, yell, shout and finally almost beg.

"Shut up," he snarls after a while. She does, breathes hard a couple of times.

"_I hate you,_" her voice reach him.

"You love me."

"_Yeah. That's the problem. Luke, listen. If they find out what you did, you'll be back in prison._"

He rubs his forehead. The truth in her words hits him hard. He knew this, but hearing it is different. But he can't go back to prison.

"People know."

"_What?_"

"People _know_ Sarah! Remember the couple in that car, the Curtises?"

He's sure she does. It wasn't that long time ago. You don't forget it.

"_They're dead. They can't-_"

"Not them! Their boys!"

It's silent in the other end. Then, "_What did you say?_"

He squeezes his eyes shut. "Their boys know. I told the youngest."

"_Their _boys?_ They had kids, Henry? They had _kids_?_" her voice is a pitch higher than usual. "_God, Henry! And you told them?_"

"It's Luke! And they're not kids, okay? Damnit."

"_What are you gonna do, Luke?_" She almost sound desperate. He sighs.

"I don't know." He twirls the cord around his fingers. "I guess I have to deal with it."

* * *

_Thank you so much for all views and reviews!_


	6. The face

**Deceiver**

**Chapter Six - The face**

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

She sits in the recliner, proper, and for the moment, quiet. I can feel her gaze on me, how she takes in my face, the bruise, now fading but still visible. I shift uncomfortable next to Soda in the couch. Darry just comes from the kitchen, places a cup or coffee in front of her.

"Thank you, Darrel." Mrs. Garcia gives him a little smile, and my brother takes some steps back, stops.

"As you already know, we got a call from Ponyboy's teacher." She plops down a piece of sugar in the black fluid, takes up the spoon, swirls with it. "She's very worried about his home situation." She looks at me again, a bit concerned. "And I must say, it's a nasty bruise you've got, Ponyboy."

I hold in my breath so hard it hurts. Soda places a hand on my wrist, squeezes gentle. I know he tries to comfort me, but he doesn't succeed. I'm scared stiff, but ready to bounce up and run if I have to. I will run, I promise myself. I can hide at Two-Bit's.

"I need to know what happened. What really happened."

"I didn't hit him," Darry says sternly, folding his arms. "He's my brother!"

Mrs. Garcia takes a sip, puts down the cup again, smirks. "Well, Darrel, I think you know as well as I that relationship between people does not mean that abuse never occurs."

I think of Johnny and his dad, and how Steve's dad treats him, and how Dally's probably is. I've never met Mr. Winston, but the way Dally acts, I can guess, and I think I guess correctly. And I also know that Tim has beaten up Curly, not only once, and they are brothers. I know that relationship sometimes means nothing if you're mad enough. But not in our family. Never in our family, and it hurts just to think that some people believe we could do that to each other.

I can see how Darry clenches his teeth, and I hear Soda's breaths. He's upset too.

"Ponyboy-" she starts, but I interrupt her.

"He didn't do it."

She smiles at me. "I think you and I should talk in private instead."

I glance up at Darry, and he nods, trying to give me an assuring expression, and I kind of wonder if he wants them to take me away. Shouldn't _he_ talk to her, make her sure I'm fine? He's the guardian! But I guess, without me, he can live his life again. He and Soda had managed much better without me, without another mouth to feed.

Soda lets go of my arm and I rise, and I must look wary because Mrs. Garcia chuckles lowly.

"I won't bite you, Ponyboy."

We go to Soda's spotless room. It's spotless because I've cleaned it like a maniac, and I'm happy for it now. I bet she had had her opinions of empty cigarette packs, Pepsi-bottles and dirty clothes lying on the floor, in a negative way.

She takes the chair and I sit down on the bed, hands in my pockets to not bite my nails.

"You want to tell me what happened, Ponyboy?" She cross one leg over the other, clasps her hands over her knee.

"Um... yeah, I guess." I take a breath and try to harden up a bit. "I was at the cemetery and when I was leaving, this guy came and punched me. But it wasn't that bad, and then Soda and Two-B... um, our friend Keith came and pick me up. They took care of me," I add, hoping it will do good.

Her face gets smooth. "You were visiting your parents?"

"Yeah."

"This must be very hard for you."

I shrug. Of course it's hard. But I won't tell her how hard.

"Is it helping to talk to Mrs. Ellis in school?"

First I can only stare at her. I didn't knew that she knows that I go see her. "Maybe," I finally say. "A bit." I don't know if it does, but whatever makes her satisfied. I can see on her face that she is.

"So you went by yourself to the cemetery?"

I bite my lip, not sure what the right answer should be at that question. "Yeah, but that's okay, I mean, it's not that far away and..." I glance at her, but her expression reveals nothing. "... and I won't do it again," I end the sentence.

"You are allowed to visit your parents, Ponyboy, but if you're at risk to get into dangerous situations, maybe you can have one of your brothers with you next time?"

I nod. "Okay."

"So this 'guy'...?"

"I don't know who he is," I hurry to lie. "But I promise it wasn't Darry!"

xXx

After she has left, it's like the air leave us. We sit quiet in the living room, not looking at each other. I guess it went well. I hope so. She talked to me for a while, and then she and Darry spoke in the kitchen, and after that she just wished us a good evening and left. I still can't believe she didn't ask me to pack my bags.

Soda is the first to break the silence. "So, what did she say?" He looks at Darry. My older brother doesn't hesitate.

"I don't think we need to worry. Maybe a few more unannounced visits for a while." He looks at me. "And you'll be careful, Pone. I doubt she will let it go if this happens again." He says it with another tone in his voice, and to me, it sounds too harsh. I fold my arms.

"It wasn't my fault!"

"So you didn't snuck out to the cemetery even though I forbade you to go there alone, huh? And you never sought up that guy on purpose either, right?" Darry puts his hand on the recliner's arms, pushing himself up. "You never listen! Now see what happens when you don't use your head."

I feel myself go red. "I didn't know it was him, I thought it was his brother!"

"That doesn't matter, Ponyboy," Darry almost yells. "I'm just telling you to not disobey me again or-"

"Or what?" I shout. "You'll call Mrs. Garcia? So she can take me away?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Pone."

"Guys, please," Soda says pleading. "It went fine, all right? No need to argue."

Darry snaps his head at his direction, but I can see that he calms down. Soda always manages to calm him down. "It was close, Soda," he says tiredly. "You both really need to stay out of trouble. She asked me about you dropping out too, but since it's legal..." He shakes his head. "I'm going to make something to eat."

Soda and I stay quiet in the living room when Darry disappears into the kitchen. Through the doorway I can see how he moves around, and by the way he treats the things he gathers, I can tell he's still annoyed.

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

The car on the driveway makes him curious. It's too fancy to belong in this neighbourhood, and when the woman exit the house, he doesn't think twice before he turns his key. Not really knowing why he follows her through Tulsa, staying behind her, making sure not to lose the sight of the car. Even though the traffic is heavy this time of day, he's lucky. He still can see her, despite two other cars between them.

A knot spreads in his stomach when she drives into a familiar street, but he continues tailing her, cursing to himself.

_She's with the police. Damnit. Fuckin' damnit!  
_

But she continues past the station, and he frowns even more. Maybe he was wrong... Two turns left and he pulls his car into the curb, watching her park and climb out onto the parking lot between two houses. This time his frown disappears and he smiles instead when she enters the closest building.

So they are in trouble? He looks at the sign above the door, knowing exactly what she does.

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1942_

_They are more brave each time, but Darrel keeps complaining. Henry wish he could shout at him to just shut up, but he can't. They need each other._

_"Just a couple of hundreds," Darrel says. He wears a new jacket. He couldn't afford it before._

_"Tony has a party tomorrow tonight," Henry says. "He asked me to get some booze."_

_"How much?"_

_Henry shrugs. "As much as we can buy."_

_"So why can't Tony go with you tonight then?"_

_Henry grins. "You know he's a coward. And hid dad would kill him if we get caught."_

_"He just wants us to do the dirty work-" Darrel gets silent and Henry turns his head. Down the hallway of the school, some girls passing by. _

_"Hi, Darrel." The one in the middle has golden locks and books pressed against her chest. _

_"Hi, Anne." _

_She flash a smile, then turns to her friends. They all giggle as they disappear around the corner._

_"A couple of hundreds," Darrel says again, grinning, "but I ain't goin' to that party."_

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

He sits in an old apartment in Tulsa, belonging to another, knowing it's stupid of him. For each day the risk he will run into someone he knows, or someone who knew Luke, is even bigger. A different name on the door means nothing if you still have the same face.

That's why he jerks up from the mattress on the floor when someone knocks - lightly, almost hesitating. Then there's a voice.

"Luke?"

Goddamnit. He takes the floor in a few steps, open up fiercely.

"What are you doin' here?"

She pouts with red lips. "Is that the right way to welcome your woman?" She walks past him, stares at the room. "It's really empty in here."

He closes the door, lean himself against it. "I ain't got a lot of money."

She turns around. "That's why we should go to my place, Luke." She places her hands on his chest, leans up to kiss him. "Come on. Let's leave."

He push her gently away, walks over the floor and plops down on the mattress again. A cigarette pack lies nearby, he catch it and takes a stick. Inhaling, he watch her.

"I can't."

"And why is that? Because of the kids?"

"Yes."

She rolls her eyes. "That's exactly why you should leave, _Henry_."

"Fuck you, Sarah." He glares.

"So what are you gonna do? Kill them?"

"Maybe."

She snorts. Folds her arms. "You're not a killer."

"I killed their parents."

"No, you didn't. You couldn't, Henry. Luke did."

"Because he was sick!" He ashes the cigarette on the floor, watches as the flakes of embers fall down, almost wishing they will start a fire. But they die down on the floor board. "He should die anyway. That's why it was him who did it."

Sarah walks to him, takes the cigarette. She put it out in the water glass standing on the floor, sits down next to him.

"Baby," she says, "why don't you relax a bit?" She grabs the hem of his shirt, drags it over his head. His scars are visible in the dim light, and she trace them with a finger. He grips her hand.

"Stop it!"

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

Two-Bit is in a good mood. Walking a few steps behind me and Johnny, his mouth races.

"... and if she ever comes back, Pony, I'm tellin' ya to just give 'er a couple of compliments, okay, kiddo? Nothin' works better on a woman-"

I turn my head, blushing. "She's like fifty, Two-Bit, and she's ugly."

Johnny chuckles.

"-but don't do comments on her boobs, okay? That will be bad," Two-Bit continues. "You have to know what to say. She's a blonde?"

"No!" I shake my head, trying not to laugh. "And I doubt your advice would work any good on a Social worker, Two-Bit."

Sometimes I wonder what's going on in my friends head, but at least he makes me feel better about the whole thing. He grins at me, like his mission is complete now when I'm cheered up.

I was a bit surprised when the two of them showed up at my school, since I knew they still had classes by then, but it's not that uncommon for them to ditch either. At first we went to the Dairy Queen to eat and now we just walk on the streets, enjoying the first day when it almost feels like spring in the air. It's still February, though, but the air is not as cold as it has been.

"Where to now?" Two-Bit asks, stepping up next to us.

"I have to go straight home," I tell him with a grimace. We stop to wait for the cars to drive by so we can cross the street. I turn to face the cars this time, not wanting to repeat the thing that happened when I walked with Dally. I know he kind of saved my life, even if I was mad at him at the time for what he said. I meet the drivers' eyes, a bit absent-mindedly, just about to turn to Johnny to say something when the words stops in my throat. I take a step back, and I can feel how the blood leaves my face, making me dizzy.

"Oh God," I choke.

"What's the matter, Pone?" Johnny says, gripping my arm. "Gosh, you're all pale."

"I-it was him! In the car!"

Two-Bit spins around, but the car disappears along with the others, and I can't even remember what color it had. All I know is that it was _him_, and he hasn't left town, he's still in Tulsa. I'm happy Johnny holds me, because my legs almost can't support my own weight.

"Are you sure, Pone?" Two-Bit says, all serious now.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure. It was him. I saw him." I will always know that face. It's different now, older, since I was a kid, but since the cemetery, I know how he looks like. I wasn't mistaken.

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1956_

_Darrel opens the door, a surprised smile on his face._

_"Henry? Come in."_

_He does. "Family home?" he asks warily._

_"Just me and Ponyboy." Darrel gestures at the little boy, playing in the living room, as always. His eyes are wide, green. Henry smirks at him, and the boy looks away with a whimping sound. _

_"I'll just put him to bed, he needs a nap. Sit down and wait," Darrel says, going to pick up the boy. The two of them disappear down the hallway. Henry sits down in the couch, looking around._

_They are poor. There's nothing fancy about their house. Nothing expensive. Still, they have more than him._

_Darrel comes back, goes to the kitchen and get some beers. Henry takes his, opens it. _

_"I need money," he says. He meet Darrel's gaze. His friend looks sad._

_"I would lend you if I could," he starts. "But I ain't got a lot."_

_"That's not what I meant," Henry assures. "I was thinking about the old days."_

_Darrel scratch the back of his neck, looking awkward._

_"You know you owe me," Henry says. "Just this time. I could use your help."_

_"I'm sorry, but you know I can't."_

_"Why?" It comes out bitter and he grips the beer bottle harder._

_"You chose that path. Not I. I have a family, Henry. My wife and my boys. I won't risk anything." Then he says, "I'm sorry."_

_"Okay." A deep sigh. "Okay. Sorry I asked. I shouldn't have."_

_"It's okay. Maybe... maybe I can help you with a few dollars."_

_"It's okay. Really." _I don't need your charity!

_But Darrel rises, picks out his wallet from his back pocket. "No. You're right. I owe you. I just can't..." he trails off, digs out some bills. "Here. Take them."  
_

_And Henry hates himself because he does.  
_

* * *

_Thank you for reading :) I hope you will review too!  
_


	7. The blade

**Deceiver**

**Chapter Seven - The blade**

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

_He's here. _

_I walk in the middle of a road, darkness surround me. There's no one else here but me. And him. Somewhere. I hear him breathe. Hear him call my name. "Ponyboy..."_

_It's a whisper. It's a car.  
_

_I start running, but my feet won't move. My legs are too heavy. "Ponyboy..."_

_Mrs. Garcia stands before me, grins._

_"You have to choose," she says. "Him- or me."_

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

Soda shakes me and I jolt up. I always wake up like this, screaming, sweaty and breathless, but I never seem to get used to it. I clench my hands into fists, close my eyes to stop my stupid tears. I am so mad at him. He destroys my life. Why couldn't he just leave, like he told me he should, why does he has to be here? What does he _want_?

"Pone, c'mon," Soda says tiredly, clasping his hand on my shoulder. "It ain't mornin' yet."

"I don't wanna sleep," I complain, but I lie down anyway. My brother tucks his arm around me, rests it heavy on my chest. I struggle around to face him. "Soda, I can't stand this anymore," I say to him, and I know I sound whiny. Soda's eyes are sad in the dark.

"I know, honey."

"We have to do somethin'."

"We are." He yawns. "Darry's gonna speak to the fuzz again, all right? So-"

"But they can't do anythin', can they? They don't even believe us."

"Pone..."

"I know they don't. You do too." I throw his arm off me, turn around and drag the cover over my head.

"Pone..." Soda pleads again, but I don't care.

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

"I have to work overtime today," Soda says at breakfast, eyes down. "I won't be home until eight or so."

Darry gulps his coffee, and I know he's late. We all are. "Why didn't you tell me this yesterday?" he says stressful.

Soda plays with his fork, unaware of the time. "Sorry. It was so much else goin' on, I forgot."

He looks up to meet my gaze, but I look away. Yesterday I told them about me seeing Henry in town. They were both really upset by that.

"Make sure you have someone to stay with you today, Pone," Darry says. "All day, okay? I wish we could stay home, but..." He trails off, dumps the rest of his coffee in the sink with a sigh.

I nod at that, but I can't help but feel angry. It's like my fear has turned to rage instead, and I stomp through the rest of the day, snap at everyone who tries to talk to me. I glare at Mrs. Thomas, ignore James, and when the day is over, I don't even wait for Dally to show up. I don't care if Henry comes. If he does- I finger on the blade in my pocket, the blade I took from Soda's drawer this morning, his old one, the forgotten one. He got a new switch blade from Steve on his Sixteenth birthday in November, he won't miss this.

I can protect myself and I will. I couldn't before, I was too little then, but I'll show him. I'm not three years old anymore.

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1942_

_"I asked her out," Darrel says, casual._

_Henry drops his cigarette, puts it out with his heel. "Yeah?" He doesn't like this.  
_

_"She said yes." Darrel can't hide his smile any longer. Henry repress a sigh, thinks that this will change everything between them. _

_"So you ain't comin' tonight then?" he blurts before he can stop himself.  
_

_Darrel shoots him a questioned look. "What's with tonight?"_

_This time Henry sighs for real. "Nothin'." And it's true. They don't have any plans. And with a girl between them, he doubt they ever will. Especially with this girl. Anne. She may be poor, may was born in the same area as them, but she is something else. She won't put up with stuff.  
_

_"I like her a lot," Darrel says, his eyes so happy. The knot in Henry's stomach tightens._

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

They wake up at noon. Sarah picks up her blouse from the floor, sticks her arms through the sleeves, button it up. Henry stretches out to find the cigarettes, lights two, hands her one of them. She holds it carefully between her fingers.

"Please, Luke," she says, hating to use that name. "I don't want to stay here." She inhales with a grimace - she has never liked to smoke.

He's stubborn. "Then don't," he snorts at her, gestures at the door. "You can fuckin' leave."

Sometimes she wonders if he even cares. As much as she does.

"I can give you everything, you know," she tells him, and she means it.

He lies down on his back again, covering his eyes with an arm. "You can't."

She frowns. "Want me to prove it?"

"Sure. Prove it." His voice reveals that he doesn't believe her. He laughs mockingly at her, and sometimes, just sometimes, she wonders why she is with him. Why he's so blind, to everything. Why he is so cold.

But she can make it better. She must.

"I will."

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

Johnny grins at me over his cards, his poker face all readable, like mine. I'm happy Soda and Steve aren't here, they would have teased us about our bad experience in playing the game. But at least we're having fun.

"Be nice," I try to trick him. "It's my last cigarettes." I drop them on the floor between us, sure of that I have better cards. Three kings.

Johnny opens his mouth to answer me, but at the same time, there's a knock on the door. It startles me a bit, and Johnny's eyes widen, his grin disappears.

"Who's comin'?" he asks me. I scan the room, to make sure it's neat.

"Maybe its one of the unannounced visits from Mrs. Garcia," I whisper to him, even if I think it's kind of early for that. But you never know with the state. Johnny collects the little pile between us while I rise and walk over the floor. Before I open up, I throw a glance over my shoulder, make sure Johnny has cleaned up every evidence of smoke and game.

But it's not Mrs. Garcia. I have never seen the woman on the other side before.

She smiles at me. "Hello. Are you Ponyboy Curtis?"

I nod mutely, wondering what's going on.

"Can I come inside?"

"Um," I say, throwing a glance backwards again. Johnny has gotten up on his feet too, looking wary. "I don't know who you are."

"I'm from the state, Ponyboy."

It almost takes the breath out of me. I get a nervous feeling, wondering why she's here, wishing badly for my brothers to come home. But they both will be home late today.

"O-okay," I stutter, glancing at Johnny again.

"Can you please let me in?" Her tone is more serious this time, and I take a step back, moving out of her way with a sinking heart. She takes a step over the threshold, and I close the door, standing awkwardly behind her as she looks over the room. She frowns when her gaze lands on Johnny.

"You are not one of the Curtis brothers, are you?"

He shakes his head, and she turns to me again. "Where are they? Are they home?"

It's pointless to lie. "Um, no. They're at work."

"Both of them?"

I feel really nervous about the questions. "Yeah."

"When will they be home again?"

I bite my lip. "They... um, they will be home at dinner." It's true, right? She doesn't have to know that we will eat at eight tonight.

"I see." She seems pleased about it, and I relax a bit. But only for a second. "Well, I have some news for you. Your custody case will be brought up by court next week, and meanwhile, you will have to come with me."

At first, her words doesn't make sense to me. I can only stare at her. "What?"

She repeats, and this time they hit me like punches in my gut, and it feels like I fall, faster and faster. I have to reach out and put a hand to the wall to steady myself.

"What?" I say again. "But - no. No. I... what custody case? Darry has the custody, he-"

She smiles sadly at me. "Not anymore. I'm sorry, but you have to go and pack a bag."

I don't believe this. I shake my head to clear it, swallow hard, but then I narrow my eyes at her. "Where's Mrs. Garcia?" I ask her harshly. "I don't even _know_ you!"

"Mrs. Garcia? Oh. Yes, Mrs. Garcia. Of course." She laughs softly for herself. "Yes. She didn't handle your case in the right way, so they had to let her go."

My head is spinning even more. I feel the headache come, and put a hand to my temple. I can't handle this. I need Soda. I turn my head. "Johnny, please go get Soda," I plead him.

He hesitates, and I guess he doesn't want to leave me alone. I know Darry's stricht orders too. But the woman next to me grabs my arm.

"We don't have the time to wait for your brother. You have two options, Ponyboy. Either you cooperate with me and come with me _now_, and then I can almost promise you that your brother will get the custody back next week." Her fingers dig into my arm. "Or," she says, "you fight this, and the judge will see to it in a _very_ bad way. They will probably send you to a foster home outside of the state, and then you never will see your brothers again. The choise is up to you."

I close my eyes, feeling the tears burn behind them. I don't know what to do. I refuse to go with her. I will run away. I will -

"Think of your brothers, Ponyboy. What would they think if they knew you disobey the state? I'm sure they trust you to do the right thing."

"They, they know about this?" I sniff, wiping my eyes with my other arm since she still holds me in a tight grip.

She smirks. "Of course they know. I told them you would call them as soon as we come to the boys home. They are very understanding about the situation."

I shake my head fiercely. "No!" I almost shout at her. "Soda wouldn't be understanding! He would be home if - he would come home!"

She looks a bit surprised by this, but then she catches herself. "Oh. Okay, we didn't call Soda. We talked to your other brother, Darrel. He said we could come and pick you up at home."

I can only stare at her, and the tears fall from my eyes by now. I don't believe her. Darry wouldn't do this. He wouldn't, right?

I think of his life some months ago. His plans of working hard to go to college next semester. His football scholarship. I'm the one stopping him from living his dream. I'm a burden, I know I am.

"Pony..." I hear Johnny say behind me. I sniff again.

"He... doesn't he want the custody?" I whisper. "He wants me to go with you?"

Her grip loosens up and she pats my arm instead. "Yes. He does want custody, but he also want you to come with me without a fight. Like I told you, if you cooperate with me, this will be over in a few days, and you will be back with your brothers again. I promise you."

I curl my arms around my body, hanging my head. I almost can't think, I don't know what to do. But the thought of being taken away from Tulsa, even from Oklahoma if I fight, is worse than the thought of sleeping in a boys home for a couple of days. I can do that, right? For Soda's sake. He will never allow Darry to drop the custody. If I do as they say, they must let me stay with him.

"Wh- when do we go to court? How l-long will I be staying at the boys home?"

"Oh, not long at all," she says vaguely. "Please, pack a bag with clothes for a few days, okay? But you need to hurry up."

I nod shortly and turn around, heading for my room. When I walk past Johnny, he steps up beside me, follows me. His eyes are black.

"Are you sure?" he says distressed. "Pone, this ain't right."

I open the door, grab my backpack from the floor and pick out my books. I place them on the bed, and when the bag is empty, I throw in some clothes, not even looking at them. I hope they are mine and not Soda's. Or maybe I want them to be his.

"I have to go with her," I snap. "You heard her Johnny, they will send me out of the state if I don't."

"Yeah, but," Johnny starts again, sitting down on the bed. "I don't think you should go with her. C'mon, we can sneak out through the back door or somethin'."

I drop my bag, fold my arms and glare at him. "No, Johnny. Don't you listen to me? Darry knows this happens, but he doesn't even care to come home to stop it!"

"Ponyboy," he tries again, but I bend down, pick up the bag again and finish my job. I will do as they say and then they have to give him the custody back. He can't deny the custody in court because Soda won't let that happen. Maybe Darry wants me to run away so he can blame me for losing later. I bet that's what he plans. He doesn't want me.

"Bye, Johnny," I say to my friend, and then I leave him in my room.

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1944_

_He's in deep shit, he knows it. He parks his car, climbs out to go and find Darrel. He's the only one he can trust._

_He finds him smoking against the wall, squinting against the spring sun. "Darrel!"  
_

_He shades his eyes with one hand, grins. "Hey, Henry."  
_

_It's no time for small talk. Henry grabs his friend's arm, drags him along, out of range.  
_

_"What's the matter?"  
_

_Henry looks around, but they are alone. "I need your help. I need to do some shit, fix some money. Something bigger this time."  
_

_"Bigger?"  
_

_If he can speak even lower, he does it now. "Robbery."  
_

_Darrel shakes his head in disbelief. "You're kiddin' me, right? You'll get caught, Henry. You have to stop with this shit now."  
_

_"It's the last time, promise-"  
_

_"You always says it's the last time. You always says it's just a couple of dollars. It's gettin' serious."  
_

___"You have to help me. We won't get caught if you help me."_

_Darrel looks to be uneasy, shifts his weight from foot to foot. "I can't, Henry. Anne-"  
_

_"Shut the fuck up! I have helped you, Darrel! Without my money you wouldn't have been able to ask her out in the first place, you know that. Fuck, my money has support you the last years! I have let you chicken out because you're my best friend, Darrel, and now, just because you've gotten a job, you think you can just ditch me? After all I've done for you? You wouldn't have anything without me, and you know it!"  
_

_Darrel sighs. It's true.  
_

_"Okay," he says. "Maybe I can help you. But it's the last time, okay? I don't want to do illegal stuff anymore."  
_

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

"You can sit in the passenger seat," she says to me, and I walk around the front of the car to the other side. I throw a glance at our house - Johnny stands on the porch, looking at me. Without a word I jerk the door open and climb in. I lock my seatbelt and fold my arms, glare through the windshield. I can't believe this is happening, and I'm so angry at Darry for letting it. It hurts me so much that he knows, but made me face this alone. He couldn't even leave work to say goodbye, or try to convince them to let me stay at home until court.

He doesn't want me. I know that.

"Ponyboy? Are you all right?"

No. I'm not. But I just grunt out that I'm fine.

She steers out onto our street, and I don't look back.

"Don't worry, sweetie," she says. "It will be fine, I promise." She smiles. "I think I forgot to introduce myself, right? I'm Sarah. Sarah Wells."

I look out through the window. I don't care.

* * *

_Thank you so much for reading, and all reviews! :)  
_


	8. The apartment

**Deceiver**

**Chapter Eight - The apartment**

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

I get the feeling that something is wrong some blocks later, when we don't drive toward the centre of the city, like I thought we would. Instead, we're still on the east side of town, and it just not feels right. I shift uncomfortable in my seat, and the woman, Sarah Wells, throws a glance sideways, smiles at me. But she seems nervous, somehow. It's the way her hands grip the steering wheel, how she leans slightly forward, and there's a tension in the air, unexplained. It's too quiet. The air is too heavy to breathe. I finger the bag on my knee, braid the straps between my fingers, wondering if these... _things_ usually happen this way. I mean, I don't know. I don't have the experience. Maybe all this is like it should be, but the feeling won't go away. We're at the wrong place, and the streets don't get any nicer when the car turns around another corner, approaching a worse area of Tulsa.

"Um, where are we goin'? Are we lost?" I mumble out the words, not sure if they will get me into trouble or not.

"Oh no, we're on the right way. I told you not to worry, didn't I? And we're going to the boys home." Suddenly she hits the brakes and we both jerk forward. My seatbelt digs into my chest. "Jesus!" she curses. "Damn cat!"

I see its black tail when it disappears behind a pile of trash in an alley, rubbing the back of my neck.

"Um, there ain't a boys home around here," I say to her, a bit uneasy. I wonder if I should unbuckle and run, but I don't have the time until she speeds up again, and then it's too late. I regret even coming with her, I should have listened to Johnny. The feeling just grows stronger in me, and I notice some details destroying the picture of her as a Social worker, like the coffee spot on her collar, her wrinkled skirt and down bitten nails and her scaled off nail polish. Mrs. Garcia never looked like that, and she had a nicer car. The one we ride in is a twin to Two-Bit's jalopy.

But she must be a Social worker. Why else would she come and get me? And Darry... Darry trusts her. Maybe I should do too. Try to. I want to believe her words, and I remember them all, and I want to believe that I did the right thing coming with her, that Darry will win the custody back if I just do as she says. It was my fault that he lost it in the first place, so maybe I just get what I deserve. I will learn my lesson, I swear. If only I can come back home again.

"Oh, right," Sarah Wells says. "We're here to pick up another boy too. You're not the only kid who needs... my help."

I press my lips together. I guess that explains it then, why we're driving on this street. Maybe that's why she seems nervous too, coming as a lonely woman in this neighborhood, it's even worse than mine.

She pulls the car over to the curb outside an apartment building, parks and takes out the keys.

"I want you to come with me," she says urgent. "I can't leave you alone here. It's not safe."

"O-kay." Slowly I lock up my seatbelt and climb out. She hurries around, grips my arm again, bu this time the sleeve of my jacket, and drags me along. The glass in the door into the building is cracked, everything feels dirty and broken around here, and I don't like it.

"We have to take the stairs," she says. "The elevator is broken."

She ushers me forward, and I go ahead, climb upward. The stairwell smells bad. "Dont stop," she says when I hesitate.

"I don't think I-" I start, but she interrupts me.

"It only takes a minute, Ponyboy, and then we'll be back in the car again, okay? I promise you the boys home will be better than this."

On the third floor she digs up a key from her purse, opens up a door. "Go inside."

I should know better, but I do as she says.

The room is empty. Two doors stand ajar, revealing a small kitchen and a small bathroom behind them, otherwise, the only thing in the apartment is a mattress on the floor, a lot of beer bottles, most of them empty, and a full ashtray. I glance up at the lamp as Sarah flicks the light on, it's only a naked bulb hanging from a cord.

Behind my back the door is closed and I turn around in time to see Sarah lock it.

"What are you doin'?" I frown, trying not to show that I'm scared. Besides, I don't think I have to be. She's just slightly taller than me, but I am better built even if I'm skinny. I'm stronger than her.

"I'm sorry, Ponyboy," she says, drops the keys back into her purse. "We have to wait."

The realization finally hits me, too late, but I think I already know before, and I want to curse myself for being so stupid. "You're not a Social worker!" I spit at her. "Let me go! Gimme the keys!"

I have to get out from here, and I move forward, but it happens so fast I don't stand a chance. She puts a knee hard between my legs and slaps me across my face, and I'm down on the floor, whining, unable to do anything, almost not even breathe.

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1956_

_He doesn't really know why he continues seeing them, go to their house, babysit the boys when asked to. It's bittersweet. He hates it and he loves it. He feels a rage when he sees Darrel with Anne, Darrel with the boys, happy moments, smiles and all the goddamn _love_. It's pathetic, but in the same time, there's a wish to be a part of it._

_It could have been his, all of it. He could have had the same. A family, a life, another future, another past. So he keeps coming, keeps watching keeps... wishing.  
_

_But it's not getting easier to hide the hate. Sometimes he has to clench his teeth hard to be able to smile. Maybe that's why he curls his hands around the little boy's neck when they're alone. Not hard. Not choking. Just enough to sense the panic. Maybe that's why he still whispers his threats to him, because he likes to see the green eyes widen. He knows he will shut up too. The only one he can get, small enough, scared enough, and it's satisfying. The power is in his hands for once.  
_

_It doesn't explain the park, though. Why he crossed the line.  
_

_He has no idea why he showed him, told him, did what he did. Only Luke knew before, and the only reason he told Luke was because of the nightmares._

_But now he stares at the boy in the grass, the boy he just..._

_-goddamnit-  
_

_...and the boy he just pushed away, and he knows he went to far. He drags his hands over his mouth, through his hair, breathes in his palms to try to calm down. He needs to calm down, memories rushes over him, and he won't panic _here_, not now, not ever. _

_He has become _them_. What they did to him... and now he's about to do the same. To a little kid. It's disgusting. He could hate himself even more, but he doesn't. He knows who to blame, who to hate, and he does, he hates Darrel. It's him, it's his fault, it's him who has created this man he has become._

_"It's your daddy's fault," he hisses, angry now, in a try to explain to a tear filled face. "I just want him to suffer, like I did."_

_Then. "No, I want worse. I want him dead!"_

_And it's then he realize, it's true. He wants him dead so fucking badly, to make things all right again. He's sure it will make himself better again. It will erase the past, take away the nightmares. Go back to the source, to what caused it all. The betrayal the night he got caught and what happened afterwards, everything.  
_

_Darrel deserves to die._

_He grins.  
_

_"C'mon boy... let's go to daddy, all right?"  
_

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

He's not a runner but he runs anyway. At first he doesn't know where, because following the car is an impossible mission even if it's the first thought that crosses his mind. Follow Pony. But the car disappears and he realize what he has to do. Get Soda.

He should have, the first time, when Pony asked him, but right then he didn't want to leave him. Maybe he's not smart, in any way at all, but sometimes he can read people. It's in their eyes and body language, the signs of betrayal. He always knows when his dad is about to hit or kick him, he can sense it even though not block it, he always knows, and that woman was no good. He doesn't know how, but something wasn't right.

He jerks the door open to the DX, almost trip on the threshold, and Soda looks up at him from behind the counter.

"Hey, Johnny."

"It's Pony," Johnny says, catching his breath.

Even from this distance, he can see how Soda pales. "What? What about Pony? What happened?" He rushes around the counter. "Johnny?" He grabs his shoulders, almost shakes him.

He speaks fast. "She - she said she was from the state, that she was gonna take him to a boys home."

"Oh god," Soda breathes, letting Johnny go. "Fuckin' damnit!" He clenches his fists, wants to punch something. "I can't fuckin' believe it! She can't do this! She said-"

"It wasn't her," Johnny interrupts. "It was someone else." His dark eyes are wide.

"What?"

"She wasn't your real Social worker. She said those stuff to him, that Darry had agreed with her to come and get him, and -"

"Wait- _what_?" Soda exclaims. "The hell are you talkin' about, Johnny?"

Johnny still breathes hard from the running when he tells.

"Dar wouldn't do that." Soda says pleading when he's finished, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to collect his thoughts. "Why would Pony think that? I mean, c'mon..."

"He was upset," Johnny says quietly.

Soda turns around. "I have to call Darry."

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1943_

_He parks his car on her driveway, facing the house. The light is on in the kitchen, as always, her mom sits up waiting for her to come home. Anne waits too. He doesn't move, so she place her hand on his arm.  
_

_"Darrel?"_

_He sighs. He can't tell her, but he can't lie to her either. She's the best thing that ever happened to him, he still can't really believe she wants to be with him. Of all people, him. He is nothing. Become nothing when his dad died, was nothing until Henry came up with his stupid ideas. They weren't stupid then, when he suddenly could wear decent clothes again, eat decent meals. Ask her out. _

_He glance at her, wondering how much she really knows about his past. What he has done. He's not proud of it, it was survival, and he stopped when he got his job, he can tell her that and maybe she will forgive him. Maybe she will still want him._

_"I ain't a good person," he says, a bit defeated. She deserves the truth. He has never loved anyone like he love her, and he never will. If she wants to go after this, leave him, he will let her. She deserves so much more.  
_

_"You are," Anne says. "I love you, Darrel."_

_He grips the steering wheel. "You don't know what I've done," he says._

_She lets go of his arm, and he knows it's over. But then she snorts._

_"Oh come on, Darrel. I ain't stupid. I was born on this side of the tracks too, you know."_

_He stares at her and she smiles. "I don't care, Darrel."_

_"You don't?" He's perplexed._

_"No. 'Cause I know you don't do it anymore."_

_Not anymore. It was months ago, last time after their fifth date, when he suddenly got lucky and got his job. But others aren't that lucky. He has to say it. "Henry wants my help tonight. He helped me before."_

_She frowns a bit. "You're not plannin' to help him are you? Is it serious?"_

_"Yeah." God. Robbery. He can't do it. He doesn't know what people Henry surrounds himself with these days, but he knows he want no part of it. _

_"Darrel?"_

_"It feels like I let him down if I don't - I betray him if I don't..."_

_"Look at me." He does. "You have changed, Darrel. Don't change back. I can't be with you if you change back."_

_"I won't."  
_

_"I mean it, Darrel. You have to choose between him and me."  
_

_It's a simple choise. He smiles, walks out of the car and rounds it, open up her door. When she steps out he kiss her. Gentle. He follows her inside, sits by the kitchen table with her mom, drinking coffee, like adults. An hour later he drives home, and he never hear the sirens, don't know a thing about Henry, his hands cuffed behind his back, his body slammed into a car.  
_

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

When I can move again, I sit up with effort. I look at her. She stands by the door, like she guards it, and she hasn't said a word about what's going on. I keep my mouth clamped, not sure what she's able to do. I still have Soda's blade with me, and I wonder if I'm even able to use it. I have seen Two-Bit and Dally and Steve with blades in their hands, even Soda, but it has mostly been for show. No real threats, never blood. When they fight, they always use their fists.

"Let me go," I mutter, crawl up on my knees. It still hurts.

"No."

With my gaze on her, I wobble up to my feet, stick down my hand in my pocket, grab the handle.

"What do you have there?" she says. Her eyes narrow, focus on my hand, still in my pocket. "Don't try anything," she warns me.

"I don't know who you are," I complain. "You don't even know me, why are you doin' this? Let me go home!"

"I know who you are," she says. "Ponyboy Curtis."

I take up the knife, flick out the blade and holds it like I have seen the others do, in a not too tight grip, arm bent and the sharp pointing edge towards her. I meet her eyes. "Let. Me. Go!"

"You wouldn't use that."

I try to look tough. Like I don't care. Like I would be able to stab the blade into her stomach without a doubt. I take a step forward, slowly, and the pain increase, and goddamnit, I hope I will be able to run. I bite my lip.

"I'll use it, all right," I threat her. She moves, closer, stands only an inch from the blade in my hand. I feel it start tremble, and of course she notices.

"You're too sweet to use it. You're just a little boy."

I jerk the knife away from her, take a few steps back. In the same moment, someone stick their keys in the door from the hallway outside, and it flings open.

Maybe I should be prepared, but I'm not. I'm not prepared for the person walking in.

"What the hell?"

I jerk at the voice shouting out. Henry closes the door behind him, glare at me with cold eyes, and I feel how I pale, walk backwards in the room, away from him, until my back hits the wall on the other side of the room. Henry turns to Sarah.

"What the hell is this?"

She puts her chin up, gestures toward me. "It's Ponyboy. I told you I can give you everything." She loops her arm around his, strokes it with her other hand.

"Goddamnit," Henry growls, turns around again to stare at me.

Sarah follows him in his movement, steps up beside him, says casually, with a little smile, her eyes on me, "You can kill him now so we can leave."

* * *

_Oh, I managed to do a cliffy, right?_

_Thanks for reading! Hope you like it! Thanks to everyone that reviews and especially you I can't thank personally in PM's.  
_


	9. The fear

**Deceiver**

**Chapter Nine - The fear**

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

I wasn't aware of that time can stop, that you can leave your body, but that is what it feels like. I'm not _me_. I'm not here. It's someone else staring out through my eyes, this happens to someone else. Not me.

The time has stopped and all sounds are silenced, except my heart's beats, and I wonder if they echoes in the room, if the others can hear them, fast and rapid, if they expose me, what I feel. I can't move, I can't breathe, and I hold on to the only thing that feels real, the blade in my hand, because somewhere, deep inside, I know there's a little voice telling me to fight.

I blink and think that maybe this is just one of my nightmares. Maybe I will wake up soon, with Soda beside me, maybe this is not real.

But I know it is.

I'm not ready to die. I don't want to die. Not yet, not here, not by this man. This wasn't supposed to happen, I know that. I wasn't born for this, I haven't accomplished anything in life yet, I'm too young and I want my brothers. I want Soda to burst through the door, I want Darry to come and save me.

A hand grabs my wrist, suddenly he stands right in front of me - when did he move? - and he takes the switch blade from me and I let him. He looks at it before putting it in his own pocket, then he looks at me again, holds my gaze locked with his. I can't look away. I don't close my eyes.

Should I start to breathe again?

His grip is tight and it hurts. He smiles a little. Then he throws a glance at Sarah, who still hovers in the back, moving her weight slightly from foot to foot.

"Come on, Henry," she says. "_Luke_."

His grip hardens and I whimper. He drags my arm upwards and I twist to get away, and before I even think of what I'm doing, I put my other hand up, trying to release myself from him. He jerks at my arm, presses me into the wall.

"Hold still, kid."

But I can't. He sighs, and suddenly I'm dragged over the floor and pushed down on the mattress instead.

"Why don't you just do it?" Sarah throws at him.

"Shut up." Henry sits down on his heels in front of me, picks up a half cigarette lying on the edge of the tray and lights it.

"Luke," she urges, pouting. "You couldn't leave because of him. Now take care of it. I don't want to be here."

He stiffens. "I told you to _shut up_!" His voice is harsh.

"Fine!" Sarah snaps, disappears into the bathroom, and the lock turns in the door behind her.

Henry watches me closely. Thoughts rush, memories from the past, clearer and more vivid than the dreams ever was, and I wonder why I don't do anything. I don't even try to protect myself. But he doesn't move either.

"How did you get here?" he suddenly says, and his voice has a normal pitch. And I remember how he was when we weren't alone, the man my brothers remember. He was nice too, but I can't let him trick me. This is his game. "How the hell did you get here, boy?"

I can't answer. My mouth is dry and I dig my fingers into the blanket I sit on, and my breaths come out more and more rapid, in rate with my heart. I am three years old again.

He laughs at me.

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

He stands on the driveway when the truck approaches and stops right in front of him. The headlights turn off and he is by the door in a second, throws it open, watching his brother unbuckle.

"They had already closed the office," Darry says tiredly, before Soda has the time to ask, "and the boys homes refused to answer if he's there or not."

"Can they do that?" Soda says, feeling cold, and it's not because of the chilly night. He has to know where his brother is. "Is it even allowed?"

"Unfortunately." Darry jumps out and Soda moves away to give him room.

"But you're his guardian, Dar!"

The older brother sighs, closes the car door and locks it. "Well, if it is like Johnny says, I'm not anymore. They don't have to tell us anything." He starts to move towards he house, and Soda follows him.

"This is fuckin' ridiculous," he spits. "They take him just for a bruise?"

"It's not just that, Soda. It's not that simple." Darry knows they have done nothing wrong, but he also knows how this life looks like from the outside. Just look at their house, their truck, their clothes, the neighborhood... add dead parents to that, add friends with police records a mile long. Add money issues and a drop out brother. Add a thirteen year old with a bruised face. Maybe it is that simple. Of course people will think Pony is better off someplace else, he can understand it, because he thinks so himself sometimes, when he watches that brainy little kid. They all should be better off someplace else. But _together_. He's selfish enough to want to keep his brothers around. He can't give them everything, but the thought of someone else doing it only makes him nauseous. He will get Pony back, one way or another.

"It is that simple. That fuckin' teacher, I'm gonna kill her, I swear!"

"_Soda_!"

"What?"

Darry doesn't answer, he just shakes his head and opens up the front door. The house is dark and quiet, making the absence of one brother obvious. Had it been a normal day, Pony had sat in the couch with books and papers, lamps on, maybe even had dinner on the stove.

"But why did she lie to him?" Soda continues when Darry still doesn't say anything. "She said she talked to you."

"She didn't. I don't know why she said that."

Soda takes off his cap and jacket, drops them on the floor where he stands, kicks off his shoes. "I know, you told me on the phone. But this ain't right, Dar."

"Maybe Johnny misunderstood."

"What if he didn't?"

"I'm gonna call them tomorrow, okay? Then we'll find out more." Darry enters the kitchen, open up a cabinet and picks out a can of mushroom soup. It's no time, no energy for any advanced cooking tonight. Soda follows him in, drops down by the table with a deep sigh.

"He thinks we let him down. I know it." He crosses his arms on the table, leans down to rest his head on them. "What are we gonna do? What if we don't get him back?"

Darry empties the can in a pan, turns on the stove. "We will."

"You don't know that." He close his eyes, trying to believe it will be okay.

"Make some sandwiches, Soda."

Sodapop straightens up by his brother's words, leans backward in his chair. His depressed mood turns to anger, and he needs a target. "You don't even seem upset by this," he accuses harshly. "They snatched Pony behind our backs and now you just stand there makin' _dinner. _What the hell, Dar! _Do somethin'_!_"_

He can see how his brother stiffens, how his hand stops swirl the soup. Soda bites his lip, lifts up his hands and drag them through his hair, thinking he's going nuts about this. He can't handle this. He just wants his kid brother.

"What do you suggest I'll do?" Darry turns around. "Huh? Sodapop? What am I supposed to do? I don't even know where he is. There's three different homes and I don't know how many foster homes they can have put him in. The office is closed and I don't even know if they will tell me tomorrow. There's _nothing_ I can do right now, and if you think that it doesn't bugs me, you're wrong!" His voice raises with every word until he almost shouts. He tries to calm down. "It more than just bugs me. Jesus, Soda, he's not just your brother -" He stops talking when Soda rises. "Where are you goin'?"

"Out."

He almost runs from the kitchen, through the living room, slams the front door shut behind him, hard.

xXx

_Oklahoma state Penitentiary, McAlester, Oklahoma, 1943_

_The first night he can't sleep. But he doesn't move, doesn't twist and turn in bed, afraid of drawing to much attention upon himself. _

_The place is worse than he ever imagined, if he ever imagined it at all. Maybe he didn't. If he had, maybe he had thought twice about what he was doing. Not that he had a choise anyway. Sometimes the path you have to walk on has too high fences on its sides- you can't get away, you have to keep going, can't change direction. That's what he tries to tell himself. He had no fucking choise.  
_

_His mind goes back to the evening when everything went wrong, it goes back to the trial, and in both cases, the absence of one person. He never showed up. Darrel managed to take another turn in life, and by that, he abandoned him, and Henry feels his blood boil. It could have been the other way around. He could be the one who is free, Darrel could be the one locked inside this place instead. Or they both could have been in Tulsa, free as birds, with money in their pockets, if he hadn't stood him up._

_The bunk bed he lies in is uncomfortable. Noises and muffled screams fill the air. Someone curses loudly and guards shout at them to shut up. This is his life now, for several years. He wonders if he will ever get used to it._

_He doesn't hear his cell mate move, but he feels the hand clamp over his mouth. His eyes snap open._

_"Shut up," a voice whisper, "and fuckin' do as I say. Then you maybe survive, ya dig?"_

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

Outside he discovers he forgot the keys to the truck, so he kicks it and leaves on foot, not wanting to face Darry right now. He knows running is not the answer, but he must do something. He can't just sit home, like Darry, eat and hope everything will be fine the next day. What if it's not?

He rarely smokes, but now he needs a cigarette. Calm his nerves. But his pockets are empty, so he shoves his hands deep down in them, to keep them from punch everything he walks by, trees and fences and cars. God, it's itching inside him and he just wants to scream. Maybe he overreacts, maybe this isn't _that_ bad, Pony will be fine, Pony is a tough kid, Pony will come home when they win in court, but- what if they don't? The state just took him. Lied to get him to come and that must mean that Pony didn't want to go. Like he doubts it, of course Pony didn't want to go with her.

The worst is that he's unable to protect him. Unable to comfort him, to tell him it's gonna be all right, be there when he has his nightmares.

He has reached the park, the playground, and he walks up to the swings and sits down. He stares at his shoes, wondering when things started to go so wrong, and when life will fix itself again. Because this... he can't take it anymore. He just can't.

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1956_

_"It's Pony's birthday next week," Darrel says, sipping his beer. They both sits in the bar, by the counter, Darrel straight from his job, Henry new awake. He rubs his tired eyes. His landlord stopped him in the stairs on his way down here, handed him a paper. He has to pay the three months of rent he's late with, or be kicked out. He gave him a week. This is fucking shit. _

_Darrel paid his beer and it tastes more bitter than it should._

_"Anne usually has some people over, maybe you want to come."_

_No fucking way. "Sure."_

_He went upstairs again, paper in hand, and called Luke, but his brother has it as tight as he. And he has already asked Darrel. The answer was 'no', of course. Coward then, coward now. Always a traitor. The few dollars he handed him was just a punch in the gut.  
_

_"Can't believe the little one is four already," Darrel smiles. "Not a baby anymore."_

_"Yeah." Henry taps his glass with his fingers, sees the glow in his 'friends' eyes as he speaks of his youngest. He wonders what will happen if he told him how he has treated the boy. It would be funny. The kid seems to be Darrel's weak point. _

_Darrel gulps his remains. "Have to go, or I'll be late for dinner."_

_"I'll see you," Henry says. When he's alone, he walks up to the payphone, puts in a coin. The one in the other end answers quickly, and he takes a deep breath._

_"It's Henry. You got a job for me?" he asks._

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

There's a sound and he turns around, quickly and frowning, but when the dark shadow steps out in the light from a lamp in the park, he relaxes again.

"Geez, Steve."

"It's the middle of the night, Soda," Steve says dryly. "What are you doin'?"

There's no way he can say it without being blunt, so he just exclaims it. "The state got Pony."

"What? _Shit_..." He doesn't really know what to say. "You're kiddin' me, right?"

Soda's eyes harden. "You really think I should_ joke_ about this, Steve?"

Steve leans against the swings' metal frame. "No," he says, unable to hide his shocked expression. "Fuck."

Soda's hands fidget. "You got any weed?"

"Yeah, hold on." Steve digs up his pack. "But what about you? They let you stay?" he asks worried as he reaches it out. Soda takes a cigarette, shakes his head.

"Seems like it. Guess it's because... hell, I don't even know. They took him when he was alone. I wasn't even there."

"He'll come back. Don't worry."

"Yeah." He takes the lighter from Steve's hand. "Or I go and get him anyway, I swear. He's not gonna grow up in some foster home." He drags eagerly on his cigarette. "I don't even know where he is, Steve. What if he needs me?"

"The kid's all right, Soda. He's not a damn baby."

"Yeah, but you know what's goin' on about that man, too. The fuzz doin' nothin' about it and how are we supposed to protect him now?" He knows he sounds desperate. "Just tell me how."

At first Steve's quiet. But then he says, "Maybe it's a good thing then that he's away."

Soda can only stare at him at first. "You better take that back, Steve!" he spits. "It ain't good at all."

"You know I didn't mean it like that. But if the state has him, if that man wants somethin' with him, he doesn't know where he is, right?"

Soda drops his cigarette butt in the sand. It doesn't matter. He still wants Pony home. He still doesn't know how to handle this night, and he can't even think of what may happen tomorrow. If they don't get any answers... He rubs his nose. "Your old man kicked you out?" he changes the subject, too tired, too sad to really talk about it.

"Yeah. Was on my way home to you."

Soda sighs. "Then lets go."

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

I have heard that when you're about to die, you see your life rush in front of your eyes, from birth until now, and you see everything you have done and everything you haven't, but all I can see is my brothers and all I can think of is that I want to go home.

And I wonder how my life could lead up to this, and I'm only _thirteen_, but I know what he did to me when I was so much younger, and I know what he did to my parents. I don't have any illusions. I know it won't matter what I do. So I don't flinch when he reaches his hand out, puts his finger on my lips, _quiet_, then down to my throat, tapping cold fingerprints on my skin. I just close my eyes, thinking of Soda's face, his happy eyes and happy smile, I think of chocolate cakes and sunsets, running track with the wind in my hair and books and music on the radio, I think of movies, I think of Darry and our friends, and I think of my parents, how they used to laugh and love us, and how I never even thought we could lose them, never even thought that someone can _hate_ you so much-

* * *

_I just know how much you love cliffhangers, so I had to give you another one._

_Oh, you _don't_?  
_

_Sorry... then I guess I'm just a bit evil :P  
_

_ (please review anyway?)  
_


	10. The mirror

**Deceiver**

**Chapter Ten - The mirror**

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

Something wakes him up. He opens his eyes, stares out into the Curtises living room with a feeling of not being alone, and he's not surprised by finding Soda in the recliner next to him. Moving easily, he reaches out to nudge his leg, grins as his friend jerks at the touch.

"Damnit, Steve," Soda whispers harshly, slaps away his hand. "It's like the second time you scare me tonight."

"What are you doin' up already?" Steve asks with a yawn, even though he knows he answer. Ponyboy. It's always Ponyboy.

Soda sighs. "Can't sleep."

"What time is it?" The darkness in the room tells it's still night, but Steve kicks off the blanket to sit up anyway, rubbing his eyes.

"Don't know. Early mornin' I guess." Soda wraps the cover tighter around him. He knows exactly what time it is, it's four a.m. and he hasn't slept at all. His room is too quiet, the bed too empty, the feeling of being needed but at the wrong place too strong. He couldn't stay there.

"Don't you got work tomorrow?"

"Yeah, but I ain't goin'." Soda hesitates, says a bit pleading, "Steve..."

"Sure." Steve gives one of his rare smiles. "I'll cover for ya."

Soda nods, looking down. "Thanks, man."

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

It's quiet. Being awake for what feels like hours I finally dare to open my eyes. The lids are heavy, and it feels like someone has thrown sand in them. Into my mouth too, it's so dry that my tongue gets stuck in the palate, and my head is throbbing.

Through the blinds in the window close by, daylight slips in, revealing that the night is over, and I hardly can believe I'm still alive. I let out air, take a shaky breath. _Oh God._ I put up my hands to my mouth, breathe in my palms just to feel it, that I can still do it, and then I swallow hard, turn my head. I lie on my back on the mattress, and the event from yesterday plays up in front of me when my gaze falls on the floor. I close my eyes for a second, trying to calm down.

_Don't think about it._

But it's hard not to. There are too much evidence even though she's gone. I wonder if he took her someplace. He seems to be gone too.

I lie still and listen. I can't hear anything, except the traffic outside, and maybe, maybe it means that I'm alone. I hope I am. Either way, I know I must try to leave. I don't want to stay here, I want to go home.

Hesitantly, I sit up, wince at the pain in my left arm when I support my weight on it for a second. My stomach hurts too, both because of my full bladder and the lack of food. I haven't eaten or drunk anything since lunch hour in school yesterday.

I crawl up, and when I rise, my foot accidentally hits a beer bottle, and it falls with a clatter, making my heart nearly stop. I hold my breath, wide-eyed, but nothing happens, not a sound, but you can never know. He can be here, even if I can't see him.

I let some minutes tick by before I slowly stumble over the linoleum floor, a few short steps to the bathroom, and then I have to support myself against the wall for a moment. I'm dizzy. I know I should probably hurry to the front door instead, but I can't walk like this. Still debating with myself if this is a smart thing to do, if I have the time before he comes back, I reach for the bathroom door and open it. Taking a step inside, I flick on the lamp, and the sight the faint light reveals makes me stop short on the threshold, inhaling hard.

She lies in the dry bathtub.

Hastily, I turn my gaze away with a sob. I saw her before, I know what happened, and my part in it, but it doesn't make it any easier. Just harder. I want to run. I don't want to see, but I really, really need to use the toilet. So I brace myself, bite my lip hard as I walk inside, refuse to look when I do what I need to do.

Afterwards, I flush and walk up to the sink to wash my hands and drink some water. Her eyes stare at me in the mirror, and it's suddenly too much; the nausea waves over me, and I turn around, fall down and throw up on the floor.

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

"Excuse me," Darry says to the gray-haired receptionist, her name tag saying her name is _Lucy_. Soda steps up beside him, place both his hands on the counter next to a green plant.

"Where's Ponyboy?"

Darry puts a hand on his shoulder, pushing him gentle backwards, feeling the tense in his brother's body. Soda is too emotional, ready to explode. Darry had wanted him to stay home, but of course, that wouldn't happen.

"We just want to see our Social worker," Darry says, knowing he sounds too urgent and curses himself. Both dressed in their best clothes, and that doesn't say much, he wants to make a good impression. If that will help at all. He doubts it.

"Do you have an appointment?" Lucy looks at them through big glasses.

"No, but-"

Her interests in them falter, and she returns to the papers in front of her. "I'm sorry. You need to have an appointment."

"Goddamnit," Soda swears at her. "We just wanna know where our brother is!"

Darry turns his head and frowns at him, and Soda sinks back, stares at the floor.

"I told you to take it easy, Soda," Darry mutters. "If they think I can't handle you-" he stops, knowing they already had this talk in the truck.

"Fine! " Soda snaps. "You told me already."

Darry looks forward again, taps the counter to get Lucy's attention, and she looks up, looking a bit grim when glancing at Soda. "Listen," Darry says catching her gaze. "Sorry ma'am, but our brother was taken from my custody yesterday, and we just want to talk about it. We don't even know why you took him."

The receptionist sighs, puts down the pen she holds in her hand. "All you have to know stands in the verdict. Didn't you read the file?"

"What file?" It's Soda again, unable to stay quiet. He steps forward, and this time, Darry lets him. "We didn't get any file."

Darry pinch the bridge of his nose. He's tired, they both are after a sleepless night, and he thinks of Pony and work, and he doesn't have the time to deal with a stubborn receptionist.

"Can we just see our Social worker, please," he begs through his clamped teeth.

"I'm sorry, but you'll-"

Soda's fist hits the counter, interrupts her. She jerks at the sound, and her brown eyes widen. "Do that again and I will call the security!"

"Soda," Darry hisses and takes his arm. "Calm down, or you'll have to go wait in the truck. Got it?"

Soda mutters something inaudible, walks over the floor and throws himself down in the couch standing against the wall. His face is clouded over, easy to read.

"I'm so sorry for my brother," Darry says as soothing as he can, doing his best to hide his annoyance against her. "But please, can we get an appointment for today?"

The woman behind the counter fidgets with her hands, giving him a scared look. It's just great, he thinks. This will definitely give us Pony back.

"I..."

"Please."

She gives him an unsure look, but then she seems to relax, and she nods.

"I will see what I can do."

He feels relieved. "Thank you."

"Who do you want to meet?"

"We had Mrs. Garcia before, but I never met our new one so I don't know her name. But my brother's name is Ponyboy. Ponyboy Curtis."

She raises her eyebrows slightly, but doesn't say anything about the first name. Instead she just says, "Curtis with a C?"

"Yes."

She disappears through a door in the wall behind her, and returns a few minutes later.

"Your Social worker is still Mrs. Garcia. Do you want me to call her for an appointment?"

Darry's face changes to one in disbelief. He frowns. "Are you sure?"

"Excuse me?"

"She still works here?"

"Yes. Of course she does. She has been here for several years. Do you want me to call her?"

Darry rubs his eyes, trying to ignore the nagging feeling that starts to gnaw. This wasn't something he expected. "Yeah." He throws a glance at Soda, who immediately jumps up.

"What? What is it, Dar?"

The woman punch in a number at the phone, so Darry walks to his brother. "She's calling her," he says, throwing a doubtful glance backwards. "Didn't Johnny say that Mrs. Garcia was fired?"

"Yeah. The woman who got Pony told him that. Why? Dar, what's wrong?"

But Darry shakes his head. No point in worrying Soda until he knows for sure what's up. He still thinks that everything can be explained. Misunderstandings happens all the time, right?

"Excuse me," Lucy says, holding the receiver against her chest," does next week work for you?"

Darry hurries back to stand by the counter. "No. Today. We need to talk to her _today_! It's important." Suddenly more now than ever.

Soda looks at him with worried eyes. They both stands quiet, listening to how Lucy talks to, assuming, Mrs. Garcia in the other end, the name Ponyboy Curtis mentioned, and then she puts the phone down. Her eyes are a bit strange when she looks up at them.

"Well, she told me to send you in, but you must have got it wrong somehow."

Darry pales. Soda roves his eyes between them. "What?" he asks, unsure. "Darry?"

But Darry grips his arm and drags him along down the hallway. They have been here before, so he knows where her office is located in the building, and he finds it fast enough.

"Darry, what's the matter? Is it somethin' about Pony? Is he all right?" Soda keeps asking when Darry knocks at the door and walks in, without waiting for a reply.

Mrs. Garcia's office is cozy, with a big, brown desk, a lot of bookcases and two comfortable armchairs facing her, but Darry stops just inside the door.

"Did you came for Pony yesterday or not?" he bursts out.

She removes her reading glasses. "No. I'm sorry Darrel, but I don't understand."

Soda's face is still blank, but he hear the sharp inhale from his brother. "What?" he says again. "What, you guys never came for Pony?"

"Can you two please sit down so we can investigate this," Mrs. Garcia pleads, and because they don't know what else to do, they do as she says.

"Now tell me what happened," Mrs. Garcia says motherly. "Why do you think we came for Ponyboy? I still think he's doing best at home with you."

"Oh my fuckin' god," Soda breathes out, devastated. He leans forward, hiding his face in his palms.

Darry grit his teeth, trying to control himself. "Because somebody did yesterday. She told him that she came from the state. Soda and I weren't home, but a friend to us was and-" he stops talking, clenching his fists. "We have to call the police. Now!"

xXx

_Oklahoma state Penitentiary, McAlester, Oklahoma, 1965_

_His second turn is not as bad as his first, but it's bad enough. Long years filled with locked doors, a tight schedule and violence, but this time, he has earned more respect. This time, he knows how to protect himself.  
_

_And then, he's finally released, a few months before New Years eve. Promising himself that he will never return to this place, h__e walks through the gates, nods at Luke who is standing by his car. Then he frowns. Luke is thinner than usual, and something in his eyes tells that he's not all right.  
_

_"What the hell is wrong with you?" he bursts out. He throws in his bag in the trunk, waiting for a reply. "It looks like you've been the one that was locked in, not me," he adds.  
_

_Luke makes a grimace. "Brain tumor."_

_"_What_?"_

_"Yeah." He shrugs. "They can do nothin' about it, either."_

_Henry stares. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me?"_

_"I'm tellin' you now." He hesitates. "But it's okay. I'm comfortable with it. You can have my house. You will need a place to stay anyway."_

_"Fuck you, Luke. This ain't nothin' to joke about."_

_"I ain't joking. Besides, I heard that you will get married. Some Sarah called me."_

_They climb into the car, Henry behind the wheel. He has missed this. Driving._

_"She told you we will get married?" he asks, frowning,__ in shock about his brother. He can't believe it. He doesn't want to believe it, so the change of subject makes him good. He welcomes it. _  


_"Sure did."  
_

_"We'll see about that," Henry mutters.  
_

_His brother nudges his arm. "Why not? You can use a woman. Can't believe how you was able to meet her, though. Thought all the inmates were men."_

_Henry winces, his first turn to prison still in his mind. Always in his mind._

_"She wrote me a letter. She was in this group, a bunch of women writing to inmates, and I got hers. Then she came to visit after a few years."_

_"And now you're gettin' married," Luke repeats. "That's neat."_

_"Fuck off." He turns the key, hears the engine roar._

_"So," Luke says casually. "I heard you changed your name."  
_

_"Yeah." He throws a glance, but his brother doesn't look disapproval. "Call me Matthew, okay?"  
_

_"You think that will help?"  
_

_He takes his gaze off the road for a second. "Help from what?"  
_

_"Gettin' a job. Stuff."  
_

_"Maybe."  
_

_"You do want a job, right?"  
_

_"Yeah. Of course I do."  
_

_"Want me to hear with my boss at Tillman's? There will be a place soon."  
_

_"Goddamnit, Luke."  
_

_"I'm just realistic." He sounds serious. "You know I will do anything for you, right? I will help you before I pass."  
_

_"Whatever. Help me, then."  
_

_Luke smiles. "New life from now on, right?"  
_

_"Sure." He grips the wheel tighter. New life, as soon as he has dealt with things. The one thing that kept him going during the years. Get the one to blame for his lost years. He will deal with Darrel Curtis. He won't get away this time.  
_

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

I push myself up with my hands on the cold floor tiles, stand up on shaky legs. My arm stings. I know I should clean it, but I can't, not with _her_ there. I can't walk up to the sink again. The mirror...

I spit on the floor and my mouth tastes awful. I had nothing to throw up but bile, and it's sour and burns in my throat, and the image of a Pepsi doesn't fit in, but I think of one anyway. Something normal in all this. I want a Pepsi. God.

I stumble out from the bathroom, feeling sick. I'm going home. I need to go home. The front door is ahead of me and I reach it, my hand touches cold metal, the handle, and I push at it. The door is locked.

Goddamnit. It's hard not to panic.

_He fingers on my throat. I think of good stuff, frantically, I'm not here, I am somewhere else, but his hand suddenly grips harder, his fingers in the back of my neck, his thumb almost cuts off my air supply, and I'm thrown from my thoughts, awake, staring..._

_Give me one reason to not kill you, boy._

_His grip makes it hard to talk, to think. _

_... I-I don't..._

I force my mind to work fast. The key. I need the key. They both had one, and if Henry is gone, hers must be here somewhere. If he didn't take it with him, and I hope he didn't, she must have it in her purse. I saw her put it there.

Where is it? I turn around, lean my back against the wood, searching the room. Then I see it, small and red, in all the other red. I hurry, fall on my knees, breathing hard. The smell is bad. My hands shake too much. The zipper troubles. Where is the key?

_One reason._

_Answer me, kid._

_Then Sarah's voice. She has left the bathroom. I'm going out. Grocery shopping. Can we go when I get back?_

_Henry's voice, his eyes never leave me. Maybe._

Small metal piece. I curl my hand around it, rise. I forgot to close the bathroom door. Standing wide open, I can see her.

I drag my gaze away, rush back to the door. I have to get out before he comes back. The key fits after my fifth time of trying, and I'm out in the hallway, the stairs lie in front of my feet. I grab the rail. Not too fast, or I will fall.

I count the steps. I don't want to think of what will happen if I meet him. Please don't let me meet him.

And then, the stairs end, and I push at the door with the broken window.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Hope you like it :)_


	11. The denial

**Deceiver**

**Chapter Eleven - The denial**

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

Soda sits on a plastic chair in the corner of a conference room, hands between his knees to stop them from shaking. Silently he watches Darry and Mrs Garcia talk to two cops in uniforms. One of them takes notes, Darry points with his finger on the notepad, probably correcting something he got wrong. His mouth moves fast, but Soda doesn't pay attention to what he says to them.

They told Mrs. Garcia everything, and she got stern and professional, and Soda is sure of that if they find Pony alive- and he _must _be- they will take him away for real this time. It's in her face. The thing is, he thinks that he won't even care if they do it, as long as Pony is all right. He just has a horrible feeling that he's not. And he hates himself for even thinking it.

They don't do anything about it, either. They have been here for more than an hour, telling what they know, and no one is out looking _yet_. He would have, if he just knew where to start. Pony might not even be in Tulsa anymore. He might be dead already. And here he just sits on a hard chair, doing _nothing_.

He feels numb.

"Soda?" Darry gestures at him to come, and he rises, quickly, moves fast over to the table where they stand. "The woman who came for Pony, how did she look like?" his brother says urgent. His eyes are harder than ever, has the resemblance of ice cubes.

"I don't know... Johnny didn't tell me."

"Johnny Cade," Darry hurries to say, turned to the cops again. "You need to talk to him. Soda can get him."

Soda catch the keys to the truck coming his way, and he doesn't think twice before he runs.

xXx

It's cold. I don't have my jacket, and I don't know where I am. I stop outside the house, squinting against the sudden sun. And old man walks on the sidewalk with his dog, and the look he gives me is fearfilled. He hurries over the street, keeps looking back at me as he crosses it.

I want to beg him to help me, but I can't. The words won't come out, and besides, no one _can_ help me. I stare down at my hands, know what he sees, and I drop the key I still hold. It falls down on the asphalt, but I don't need it anymore. I curl my arms around my body, hide my hands as much as I can. But I know my clothes look the same.

Left or right? I try to think how she-

how she drove me here, not even a day ago. Was it really yesterday? It feels like forever.

I start walking. Not fast, I can't speed up or the dizziness will hit me hard, and I walk close to the house, for support, to hide. I stumble. Sometimes I fall down on my knees, and then I have to struggle to get up.

I walk past a pay phone, but it's broken, someone has cut off the cord and the receiver is missing, but I don't have any money anyway. My backpack is gone, I have a vague memory of leaving it in the car. I think I have a few dollars in it.

But it's gone, right. I don't have it. And the phone is broken, I can't call anyone. Keep walking.

I bow my head when I meet people, not wanting them to see my eyes, but they all stare at me, some shout something I don't hear. I just want to go home. Nothing else. So I ignore everyone.

I cross a street and then another one, and suddenly the little corner shop ahead is familiar. My heart start to pound faster - I know where I am. I smile out of relief. Only a little bit left. I know I can do it.

xXx

"What if I don't remember right?" Johnny says nervously as he jumps into the passenger seat of the truck. Soda doesn't wait for him to lock the seatbelt, he reverses out onto the street from the school's parking lot, speeds up to the limit and over. Screw traffic rules.

"You have to." He throws a glance sideways. Johnny looks pale. "It's all right, Johnny. Just tell them what you remember, okay?"

"I should've stopped him," Johnny says. "It was my fault."

"No, it wasn't."

Johnny sighs, looking out through the side window. His hands are clenched, and he shivers in his thin jean jacket.

"I told him to not go with her. I should've tried harder. He - he asked me to get you but I didn't."

"Shut up, Johnny," Soda pleads with a thin voice, knowing he's unfair. He can't blame Johnny. Pony is stubborn, always does what he wants, even though what anyone says. The _If_'s and _But_'s don't matter, don't change anything.

"Was it him? That man Pony told us about?" Johnny's black eyes are wide.

"We don't know," Soda says truthfully, cursing at the car in front of them that forces him to slow down. "Damnit."

"But-"

"Yeah. We think it's him."

"It ain't good."

"I know. I know that." Soda swallows. "But he's just a kid, right? Pony's just a kid. Maybe he just wants to scare him or, I don't know. Maybe he won't hurt him."

"Yeah," Johnny says, knowing what Soda wants to hear, but he doesn't manage to make the tone right. It sounds false. "We'll find him. He'll be okay."

The rest of the way they ride in silence.

xXx

I'm so tired. And thirsty. I stumble up onto our yard, reach out for the rail to the porch steps, drag me up to the front door. Then I stop. I wonder what my brothers will say. I'm scared. A bit shaky I open the door, sneak inside, eyes down.

It's so quiet. I close the door behind me again, look up, stare at the empty living room. Maybe I can pretend nothing happened. I can do that.

"Hello?"

No one answers. Where are they? I still don't know what time it is. I move to the kitchen, look up at the clock on the wall. Nine thirty. Maybe they are at work.

I wonder what they will say when they find me home. They think the state got me - I know Johnny must have told them. I wonder if they were relieved. Maybe they will be disappointed at me, that I came home again.

No. Soda won't. Soda will be happy. He must be.

I rub my eyes. Stare at my hands. God. I need a shower.

_So she brought you here, huh? Your old man told me you were smart, boy. Apparently not. What the hell did she do to make you come with her?  
_

_D- don't._

_Don't what?_

_Don't talk about my dad._

_What? I can't hear you. Speak louder._

_Don't talk about my dad!_

I step into the bathroom, undress. It feels like I move in mud, I can't move faster. I leave my clothes in a heap on the floor, climb into the bathtub.

She lied in the dry bathtub.

I shiver, quickly turn on the water. It's cold first, but I force myself to stay under. All the red, hers and mine, all the blood, swirls down in the drain. My hands get clean, but they will always be dirty. The wound on my arm looks nasty.

The water is hot now, so hot it almost burns. I like it.

_I hated him! But you already know that, don't you? You know everything._

_Answer me!_

_Y-yeah._

_I killed them._

_..._

_Are you crying?_

_...no._

_Fuck boy, you don't know shit about life. You don't know how it can screw you over, fuck with you, give you all the bad cards. And you know what? Your dad was one of the dealers - gave all the shitty cards to me and kept the aces for himself you know. I have all the reasons to hate him! I had the right to do what I did!  
_

_Hey! Look at me! I want you to fucking listen!_

It's not until the shower turns cold again I realize I used all the hot water. My teeth clatter. I rise, take the towel and dry myself, and I walk into my room and find new clothes.

I walk to the kitchen. There is chocolate milk in the fridge and I pour a glass, sit down by the table, lean my head in my hand.

Everything is normal.

Like it should be. I drink my milk and decide to forget.

_What the hell did you do!_

His voice echoes in the room. I put my hands over my ears, hard.

xXx

"She... uh. She was blonde. And. Um. She spoke like... differently." Johnny's voice is thin and scared. The police taps his pen impatiently against his notepad. They are sitting across each other at the table, Darry standing behind Johnny's chair.

"Differently?" the cop, Jackson, asks. "Lisp? Stutter? Accent?"

"I - I mean... not like we do. In Tulsa."

"She's not from Oklahoma you mean?"

"I guess." Johnny swallows.

"Where did she sound coming from?"

Johnny just shrugs. He has never been out of Tulsa. Jackson sighs. These kids. He's used to them, the greasers from east side. They don't talk to cops, and if they do, all that comes out is rubbish. He has locked up more of them than he can count, and they went missing all the time, most of them wanted for some crime. But this time they have Mrs. Garcia on their side, and he has to admit, the older brother has made some impression on him. It is something strange with this case. So he grabs his pen in a tighter grasp, urges the kid in front of him.

"What did she say? Did she mentioned the name Henry? Or Matthew or Luke?"

"I don't think s-"

"No," Darry interrupts. "Pony wouldn't have gone with her if she had."

"Okay." Detective Jackson scribbles down something, looks up again. "What about the car?"

"It was white. A Ford." Johnny frowns. "It was a bit rusty. Not a nice car."

"License number?"

Johnny glances up at Darry. "I'm sorry," he mumbles, devastated. "I didn't-"

Darry squeezes his shoulder. "It's okay, Johnny."

"Okay," Jackson says when it's obvious the young greaser won't say anything else. "We will call the station and make an inquiry on these persons. Henry Morgan, who changed his name to Matthew Gaines but now pretends to be Luke Morgan - is that correct?"

"Yes," Darry says tiredly.

"And a blonde woman, unknown name, who drives an old, white Ford."

Darry shuts his eyes. There's not much information, he knows that, hears it in the cop's voice. This is hopeless. It's worse than try to search for a needle in a haystack. But they need to do it, and he knows that both him and Soda will search. As long as it takes, until they find him.

"Well, since the man is a criminal, we'll take him as soon as he sticks his nose out, all right?" Jackson says. "And he will, sooner or later. Don't worry." He fails to be comforting.

xXx

My hands fidget. I need something to do, something normal, to stop thinking. I hear him, all the time.

_What the hell did you do?_

But I promised myself to forget. Nervously I move from room to room, to mine, to Soda's, I stand outside Mom's and Dad's, touch their door, walk back to the living room. I get my school books from my bed but when I try to read, the words make no sense.

I search the house for cigarettes and find a pack on my desk.

I sit on the porch and light up - eye every car suspiciously, ready to run, but I'm good at this, to pretend. I know exactly what happened, and the answer is nothing.

That's what I gonna tell my brothers.

xXx

"God," Soda says, hides his face in his palms, talks with a hollow voice. "Where do we start?"

"We'll go home," Darry says, "and we will call Steve and Two-Bit as soon as we know they're home from school. I will send Dally to talk to Tim and his boys. Spread the word to look for him." He tries to think practical. It keeps him from breaking down, and that's good. He can't break down when Soda is on the edge of doing it. They have just dropped Johnny off at school again, Mrs. Garcia's orders, and they head for home.

"And then?"

"Then..." He turns the truck around a corner. "We can go out. Talk to people. Someone can have seen something."

Soda lifts up his head, nods. "Yeah. We can do that."

"We can spread out a photo," Darry says. "He has one from school last year, right?"

Soda nods again, but he doesn't answer this time. His eyes are dull, rimmed with red. But suddenly they widen, become more vivid, and he sits straight up.

"Stop! Stop the car!"

"What? We're almost home- Soda! _Shit_!" Darry hits the brakes, but it's too late. Soda has already thrown up his door, jumped out during the speed. As Darry slams his foot down, Soda scrambles up on his feet again, seemingly unscratched despite the fall on the hard ground, runs toward their house.

xXx

I almost don't even notice him until he's all over me. He squeezes me so tight I almost can't breathe, and I drop my cigarette.

"Soda..." I say, try to get free, and that's when I realize he's crying.

Darry's truck pulls in on the driveway, and he jumps out faster than I have ever seen him, and he runs, all pale.

"Oh my fuckin' god, I can't believe it," Soda manage to say, still refusing to let me go. And then Darry is next to us, and he throws his arms around us both, making it even harder to get air.

"I was so fuckin' scared, you don't know what I imagined - just, damnit, Pone, what happened? I can't believe this, you're fuckin' _home_!" Soda rambles through sobs.

"I'm home all right," I say. "Soda, you're squeezing me. I can't _breathe_."

They both let go, but Soda put both his hands on the sides of my face instead, stares at me. His cheeks are wet. "Are you hurt, Pone? What did they do? I swear, if you're hurt-"

"I ain't hurt. I'm fine."

Darry puts a hand at the back of my neck, caress it smoothly. "Let's go inside and talk." His voice is different. Strained. If I hadn't known better, I had thought he was close to tears.

We move into the house, Soda holding my arm, and for some reason we end up in the couch with Darry in the recliner.

Soda wipes his face with an arm, laughs. "You scared me to death, kiddo. We just talked to the cops about you and-"

The word 'cop' almost makes me jump up and run, and I look around nervously. "Why?" I ask warily.

Soda looks baffled. Darry frowns, leans a bit forward. "Ponyboy," he starts, but Soda interrupts, talking fast.

"Why? You were fuckin' kidnapped, that's why. What do you think, Pone?"

I feel myself go blank. "I wasn't kidnapped."

It's someone else talking. I'm not here. I give them an innocent look, trying to sound like me, because I know I have to. "It was the state. Our social worker came and- what?"

I have never seen these looks on their faces before. They scare me. I clamp my mouth shut, stare down at my hands.

_What the hell did you do?_

I jerk.

"Pony," Soda says, and his voice is so small. "Pony, what's wrong?"

I shake my head. "Nothin'. Nothin's wrong. Can you please stop nag about it?"

Soda eyes Darry, and I don't miss how scared he looks. Darry clears his throat, lands a hand on my shoulder.

"Pony, she wasn't from the state. We have talked to Mrs. Garcia. They-"

"She was from the state," I say stubbornly. "I should know."

"Pony," Darry says again. "We know she wasn't. If she was, you had been in a home right now." He sounds like he talks to a little kid.

_Sarah shrieks. _

"I - it was a mistake." They have to believe me. "She said it was a mistake and she drove me home again. I promise, that was what happened!"

I have never seen Soda so pale before. He locks his eyes with Darry's once again. My older brother sighs, shakes his head. "Pony, we know that's not what happened. Stop lying to us."

"I ain't lyin'!"

I cross my arms, glare at them. Soda makes an almost unnoticable gesture with his head, and Darry hesitates, but then he nods too, and rises.

"I - uh. I'll be right back."

I know what they're trying to do. They think I will talk if he leaves. Soda is the one who always can trick me to talk.

Darry disappears down the hallway. I watch him go, hear him open the door to the bathroom. I avoid Soda's gaze. I can feel how he stares at me, and I know he searches for something to say. He opens his mouth and closes it.

"Pony," he starts, but then there's a sound of hurried steps. We both look up. Darry appears in the doorway, holding a bundle in his hands.

"What is this, Pony?" he says, sounding so broken, so scared it hurts. "What is this? Ponyboy, you have to talk to us! Now!"

That's when I see what it is. It's my clothes, I forgot them on the bathroom floor. They should be blue, jeans and a sweater, but they're not. The other color is more rusty than red, but it's obvious what it is.

My world starts spinning.

* * *

_As always, thank you so, so much for reading and reviews and everything!._


	12. The defence

**Deceiver**

**Chapter Twelve - The defence  
**

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

I can only stare at the clothes is Darry's hand. I hear Soda talking, I guess to me, but I don't register what he's saying. All that swirls in my head is the search for something to say, to tell them, to explain, and the truth is the only thing that really fits in, but I just can't.

I tried so hard to pretend that this crash down to reality _hurts_. I suddenly realize I can't escape. I remember everything that happened, and everything after, I remember the key, the door, the walk home, and all the time I thought I had succeeded, but truth is, I haven't. This is a dead-end. I chose the wrong path.

I open my mouth to say _something_, but then I clamp it shut, and Soda grips my arm, or has he held it all the time? I can't really tell. I feel him beside me, and his words finally reach me.

"Is that blood? Pony, are you hurt? Is it yours?"

God. He sounds so scared.

I shift. My thoughts race in pace with my heartbeats. I want to tell them _No_. _It ain't mine. _It would just be half of a lie. All of it is not mine.

Darry discovers something, drops the jeans down to the floor, checks the sweater closer, finds the rip on the sleeve. His eyes tell me everything when he looks up, and I try to shrink back, but Soda's arm and the back of the couch stops me.

"Pone, take off your shirt," Darry says, calm and soothing, making me feel like a trapped animal. "Let me see your arm."

Mutely I shake my head. But Soda tugs at my clothes. "Please, Pone."

My eyes drift to my left arm against my will. Why do they want to see it? I shake my head again, more frantic.

"It's either here or at the hospital."

My head snaps up. I see in Darry's eyes that he's serious. It's no doubt he will go along with his threat if I don't do as he says. And I refuse to go anywhere. Apparently I have no choice. So with a sigh I grab the hem of my shirt with both hands, drag it over my head. Angrily I toss it on the floor beneath my feet. I know they won't be satisfied with only seeing it. They will force me to explain too.

Darry is in front of me now, on his knees, holding my arm in his hands, inspecting the damage. I hear him suck in air.

"Soda, can you go get the first aid-kit?" It's obvious it takes all his will power to not ask me any questions.

Soda moves away, and I reach for him, not wanting him to go.

"I'll be back, Pone," he assures me, a trembling smile on his lips when he loosens my grip. "Just a second. Promise."

It's hard to see him go, even if it's just outside the room.

It's a nasty wound. I don't know how deep, it bled good enough, but not good enough to be all over my clothes, and I can see that Darry knows it too. Sometimes I think he's too smart. I will never get away with a lie this time.

Soda comes back. Together they clean it, and Darry keeps talking while I wish he could just shut up.

"We have to call the police," he says. I wince at his words, but he thinks it's because my wound stings. He gives me an apologetical look. "I'm sorry. I know it hurts."

I make another grimace.

"I think you needed stitches, but it's too late now. Can you move your fingers?"

I show him. I have no trouble moving my hand, and he nods. "That's good at least."

"Why do you have to call them?" I mumble.

"The police? We have to," Darry says. "You know that, Pony. I can give you a little time to collect yourself if you want to talk to Soda and I first. But we can't wait too long."

"Don't call them," I plead. "Please, Darry."

"They're out looking for you. They need to know that you're home. And you need to tell them what happened and where Henry can be found."

I flinch. I never told them it was Henry, but I guess it's obvious. It can't really be someone else. I bite my lip, chew on it. Darry bandages up my arm, hands me my shirt again. I drag it over my head, curl up in the couch. Soda drapes his arm around my shoulders, leans his head against mine. I feel safe here, with my brothers around. Maybe they can help me. Maybe they know what to do. They can find a place for me to hide, or-

I close my eyes. I should talk, but it's hard. I keep hear their voices, her shriek. His harsh words after, everything he said to me. It will always be a part of me, something I did, but it was self-defense too. I know that. Deep inside I know that. And this won't go away. It is real, and it is now. I guess I just should talk, to get it over with.

"I want to... I want to tell you first," I whisper to them. "But I ain't sayin' _anything_ to the fuzz, okay? I don't want them to know."

"Okay," Soda says quickly. "You don't have to."

I nod, but Darry frowns a bit at his direction, and I know he disagrees. Fortunately, he doesn't say anything, so I can deal with that later. Maybe he will understand. I look down on my hands, wonder were to start.

"Just tell us when you're ready," Soda says into my ear.

I'm not ready. I don't think I ever will be. But I have to, I _have_ to, I know that...

"It was... she was his girlfriend or somethin'," I begin, low and slowly. I don't need to explain who _he_ is and I'm thankful for that. "He... he didn't know about it. He was pretty mad at her for a while. And then she went out for grocery shopping and she said..."

I stop. _Come on. You can do it_, I tell myself. _It's either here or in a cold room at the police station, just before they lock you away._

I brace myself again. "She told him to... to kill me when she was gone."

I feel Soda tense next to me. I know he probably want to curse or say something, but he doesn't. I'm glad for that. I'm sure of that if they say anything, anything at all, I will clamp up. This takes all I have.

"But. I mean, he didn't. He - he didn't kill me."

Like they don't already know. I wouldn't be here if he had.

"He just talked a lot. I think he tried to scare me or make me angry 'cause he kept threaten me and say bad things about Dad and some things about Mom. It was like when I was little. And then... then..."

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966, yesterday_

_The door open. I don't know who I expect to come, because there is no possible way Soda or Darry or anyone in the gang can know where I am, but I still hold my hopes up. So I snap my head at its direction, ready for the rescue._

_But it's not them. It's Sarah, coming back. She looks at me and makes a face, places the grocery bag on the floor._

_"Goddamnit, Luke," she sighs. "I thought you would be done by now."_

_He rises, leaves me, walks up to her, rummage the bag. His hand comes back with a pack of cigarettes. He rips it open, places a stick between his lips. "You want him dead so badly?" _

_He stuffs the pack in his pocket. Seconds later, a match lights up between his hands.  
_

_She throws a quick glance at me. "Yeah. He has seen our faces. He will tell the cops about you. About _me_."_

_I shake my head, but she only smiles at that. "I'm sorry, Ponyboy. I know you would."_

_I swallow. "No... I promise I won't."_

_Henry only laughs at this, flicks with the match so it dies down.  
_

_"If Luke just had left Tulsa when he should have, none of this would have happened," Sarah says. She's turned to him again, and he snorts._

_"Then you can do it."_

_"What?"_

_"You can kill him." He smiles.  
_

_"Are you crazy?" Her eyes widen. "I can't do that. I'm not strong enough."_

_He picks something up from his other pocket. I recognize it. It's the switch blade I brought, and I feel how I pale. Not that one. It's Soda's. I start to shake, and I can't stop. I don't hear anything else they say, and my mouth is so dry now I can't talk. The words I want to say stop in my throat._

_Henry picks up the groceries and disappears into the kitchen, Sarah stares at the knife in her hand. Then she looks determined, and she flicks out the blade. I flinch, shambles backwards when she approach._

_"I don't want to do this," she says, and then - it happens so fast I don't have the time to do anything else than put up my arms to try to defend myself, to stop her. I'm a second too late. I feel the pain in my left arm as the blade digs into my skin and I gasp. I want to scream but I can't, and there is a buzz in my ears, it's my blood that rushes fast through my body, and I struggle. _

_She's stronger than I had thought. Not even my adrenaline can make me able to push her away. I fall down on my back and I hold her arm with both my hands, while I try to think what Soda has taught me, what Two-Bit has said and Dally - I should know how to fight, how to get out of a situation like this, but my mind is blank and all I can see is her eyes, and they don't hate me._

_She doesn't hate me, so why is she doing this? She must be crazy.  
_

_My fingers dig into her hand, trying to make her let go of the knife. It's close to my face, to my throat, and somehow I manage to bend her arm away from me, making the blade point upwards. I can feel how she almost loses her grip. And then she does - I suddenly have the knife in my hand, the familiar feeling of the handle in my palm._

_I don't know what happens next, it happens so fast, it happens in slow motion. She struggles to get up, trying to get away, because our roles are reversed now, but she slips somehow, she falls, she lands heavy on me, and she makes a noise and jumps up. Sitting on the mattress, she places a hand at the side of her neck._

_"Oh my God!" she says. "Oh God oh God oh God!"_

_Red pours between her fingers. Much red. I sit up too, stare at the blade in my hand, stare at her._

_There's so much blood. It won't stop. _

_Her eyes meet mine, and they are afraid. "What's happening?" she says. "What did you _do_?"_

_I stutter. "I - I didn't..."_

_She shrieks._

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

"It's okay, Pone," Soda says, but his voice sounds different.

"It's _not_," I say. "It's not okay!" I hide my face in my arms and wait for the tears, but they won't come. I can't cry. I feel so empty."I didn't mean to do it," I say. "I didn't mean to do it! I didn't mean to-"

"Ponyboy, you listen to me! You didn't! Okay? You didn't do it."

"I did. I did it! He told me. It was _my fault_!"

Soda tries to uncurl me, but I refuse to let my hold around myself go, and he keeps it too gentle, so he's unable to move me. I don't want to meet their eyes. I'm a murderer. I killed her. This nightmare they can't wake me up from.

"It wasn't your fault, Ponyboy," Darry says hoarsely. "She tried to kill _you_. It was self-defense. An accident!"

"I'm scared," I admit into my arms. "You can't tell the fuzz about this."

My brother sighs, and he sounds so fragile and old at the same time, even though I know he's strong and young. It's me who change him.

"They need to hear your version."

That makes me look up. I glare at them both, at their worried faces, because they say the wrong things.

"No! You can't tell them! He - he told me..."

"He told you what, Ponyboy?"

I clamp my mouth. I have already said too much.

Soda is still close, and now he leans in even closer. "C'mon, Pone," he says. He wipes away my hair from my face. "You have nothin' to worry about, okay? You didn't do anything... I mean, you are a kid."

That doesn't mean anything, and he knows it too. They put Dally away when he was ten, and I am three years older than that. I _know_ they will put me in jail.

"I don't want them to take me away!"

Something flashes in Soda's eyes. It disappears, but I managed to see it. "What? They gonna take me?" I almost panic.

"No," he says firmly. "They won't. I won't let them."

I just have a feeling that he doesn't talk about the cops this time. I do, but he talks about something else. My eyes widen.

"The state?"

God. I never even thought about that. I can't handle this, not now.

"No, Pone," Darry says, sounding more sure than Soda. He grips my upper arms, forces me to look at him. "They won't take you. I will talk to Mrs. Garcia, okay?"

"Okay." Taking a deep breath, I sniff, trying to calm down, but still not really believing him. "Okay. But not the fuzz."

He looks at me for a long moment, seeming to debate with himself. Then he says, "Okay. I will tell them that you're home, but I won't tell them what you told us yet. Is that fine with you? But you know you have to tell them eventually."

I guess I have no choice. So I nod.

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966, yesterday_

_"Help me!" she says, reaching out a hand. But I don't. I can't. I use my legs to get further away from her, but I hit the wall just after a few feet. I still hold the switch blade in my hand. I tremble. My heart beats fast._

_Henry comes running, swears as he sees the blood, and he yanks off his shirt, presses it against Sarah's neck._

_"What the fuck happened?"_

_"Oh God," Sarah whines. "I'm gonna die!"_

_"No, you won't," Henry says, but he doesn't sound too sure. The red paints her clothes. The mattress. It's on me too.  
_

_"Come here, boy," Henry shouts, and I jerk."You fuckin' caused this, help out here."_

_I drop the knife, crawl hesitantly on my hands and knees to them. My arm hurts. Sarah is pale. Her breathing comes out ragged._

_"Ca- call the ambulance," she says._

_"Press this against the wound," Henry says to me, ignoring her. I take over holding the shirt, with tears in my eyes. Her blood seeps through the fabric, runs down my arm, mix itself with my own._

_"Fuck!" Henry swears. "Fuck this shit!" He stares at his hands. Then he suddenly gets up on his feet, disappears into the bathroom. I hear the sound of running water.  
_

_"I-it won't stop," I stutter. What am I supposed to do? I glance at the bathroom door. The sound has silenced behind it, but it's still closed and locked.  
_

_"What's happening?" Sarah's voice is weaker. "I wanna lie down. Can I please lie down?"_

_She does. My grip on the shirt loosens, and I drop it. I don't think it matters anyway. She puts her hand back up again, looks up at me. _

_"I'm cold," she whispers. "Can you please - um- " her bloody hand reaches out, grabs my sweater in the front. "Please?"_

_She make noises. She coughs. And I sit there, when her hand falls down, when she squirms, when she suddenly gasps for air._

_I close my eyes. Hard. Harder. My jeans are sticky, wet. I know it's her blood. It's everywhere._

_When I open my eyes again, she's dead._

* * *

_This wasn't very easy to write... :S  
_

_Hope you like it and doesn't find it "too much". Your reviews are lovely! Thank you!  
_


	13. The anger

**Deceiver**

**Chapter 13 - The anger**

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966, yesterday_

_It doesn't goes away. _

_Every time I open my eyes, I try to trick myself what I'm about to see, but the scene in front of me never changes. I close them again. Open them. Everything is still like it was._

_The room is too small, making it hard to breathe. Or maybe it's just me._

_I want to run away from here, I want to leave so badly, and I want to stay here and hide, so no one will ever know about this. I want to turn back the time or freeze it. Turn it back and make things different. Freeze it and never face the world again._

_Henry is still in the bathroom. I glance nervously at the door, wondering what he will do when he discovers I failed to save her. He told me to save her, and I didn't._

_He's going to kill me._

_"Come on," I whisper. "Rise! Walk." I dig my fingers into my legs, trying to will them to obey me. They don't._

_I start to shake. I can't stop._

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

Darry's on the phone. His voice travels through the thin walls in our house, reaches me where I lie on the bed in Soda's room, trying to rest. I don't hear any words though, just a soft murmur. It scares me and soothes me at the same time.

I finger the bandage on my arm. It feels unreal now, again, but I'm not sure I like it this time. It was one thing when it was just me, when I was alone in it. But now my brothers know. I don't want to be crazy.

I keep my eyes shut. I know Soda's in the room too, keeping his watch over me. I want him here, but I know he would be here even if I had told him not to. It's not my decision.

I am exhausted. After I told them about Sarah, the unanswered questions hung in the room, the tension so thick I'm sure we could have touched it if we wanted to. So when Darry told me to go get some rest, I didn't complain, even if I kind of knew he just didn't want me there when he made his calls.

But I know they will ask about Henry eventually.

Soda is unable to sit still. I feel the shift in the mattress when he sits himself down, when he rises again to pace the room. I stop tugging at my bandage, tuck my hands under my cheek before tossing around to lie on my back instead. Then I sit up.

"What was that?"

"What?" Soda throws himself down next to me, worry in his eyes.

"I heard somethin'."

We both sit quietly, but no sound can be heard, not even Darry's voice anymore.

"I hate this," I exclaim.

"Hey, kiddo," Soda says when I look away. "It'll be all right."

"He told them," I mumble, fidget with my hands. "I know he did."

"He said he wouldn't."

"He was on the phone for an hour! That means he didn't just tell them I'm home."

"He didn't tell them."

"How can you know?"

There is a soft knock on the door, and we both jump a mile. Darry sticks in his head first, before he opens up completely and walks inside. He sits down on the bed too. He looks as tired as I feel.

"I've made some calls," he says. "Mrs. Garcia wanted to come here today to see you, but I managed to convince her not to. But she will be here tomorrow. There's nothing we can do about it."

I swallow. "Okay," I answer quietly, trying to ignore the grimace in Soda's face. I want to trust Darry's calm rather than Soda's distress about this.

"Pony, I know this ain't easy for you, but you have to tell us what happened after this... with Sarah. I talked to the police-"

I pale, and he lies a hand on my knee.

"It's... well, when I told them you're home, they asked me if I was sure you just hadn't run away and then changed your mind."

"What?" My eyes widen, and I look between him and Soda. Something flutters in my stomach. Maybe we can tell them I did that, and then no one will know what happened. Then I don't have to go to prison. I can't go there. I really can't!

But if I tell them that I did run away, Mrs. Garcia will put me in a boy's home. No matter what I do, it will be the wrong choice. But boy's home is better than prison.

"But what about Henry?" Soda urges. "They won't look for him?"

"Calm down," Darry says, lifting his hands in a soothing gesture. "Of course they will. We're going in there first thing tomorrow." He must see my facial expression because he gives my knee an assuring pressure. "Pone, it will be okay. I know you don't wanna talk about this yet, but I think it would be good if you did when it's just me and Soda here. Okay?"

Hesitating a bit, I say, "Okay."

"Just a few questions, all right?"

I nod. I can do it.

"Where is Sarah?"

_She's in the bathtub. Pale. Bloody. Eyes stare-_

"Ponyboy! It's important."

"In- she was in the apartment," I mumble, feeling shivers through my body.

"And where is the apartment?" Darry's voice is strained. "Pone! Listen to me. When they find her- and they will, sooner or later- it's better they already know the truth. I'm sorry, but this isn't something you just can pretend didn't happen. If we don't tell your story, it will only be worse for you in the end."

I wince. But I know he's right. I just wish I wasn't so scared.

I rub my forehead, trying to think, but the way to the place is all blurry. "I really don't remember."

"Okay. It's okay. What about the blade?"

"Um..." I frown, try to think harder. Where did it go? Did I see it when I woke up? I can't recall it. "I don't know."

"Then what about Henry?" He sounds a bit wary. He's not sure what I will answer, because I have hardly even mentioned him since I got home. Maybe they think I killed him too. "Where is he now?"

"I don't know," I confess. "He - he left. That's why I got away."

They both look taken aback. This was nothing they had expected. I didn't expect it either, but it's the truth.

"He - he just walked out."

"He left you?"

"Yeah. He wasn't there when I woke up."

I start biting my nails.

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966, yesterday_

_The bathroom door is closed for half an hour. I don't know why I don't even try to run, why I don't even jerk back when Henry approaches, sits down beside me, lights a cigarette. _

_"You killed her," he says. "You fuckin' killed her, boy."_

_I want to say that I didn't, but I'm not sure. Maybe I did. I guess I did. She's dead, and I was the one holding the knife.  
_

_"Look at her," he says to me. I wonder why he doesn't seems sad. His eyes aren't even red. Shouldn't he cry? "This is _hatred_. You see?" He points at her with the cigarette.  
_

_I don't understand. Does he mean that he hated her? Or that _I_ hated her? Was that why this happened?_

_"At least she shut up now," Henry says, lifts Sarah's hand, drops it. It falls to the floor with a thud. I close my eyes. He notices._

_"I goddamn told you to look!"_

_She doesn't look like she's sleeping._

_"I guess we're even." He takes a drag, blows out smoke. "It's you and me, boy. We're just the same." _

_I want to tell him I'm nothing like him, but I can't. This is different. It has to be different. He made his brother kill my parents by purpose, but I didn't meant to kill her. __She was the one attacking me._ She was the one with the switch blade. She -

_Or was it me? The blade - I brought it here. I took it from the drawer, pocketed it, wanted to use it if necessary. I had it with me for a reason. I remember when I took it, how angry I was, how I was ready to do anything to protect myself.  
_

_And now I have done it. And someone is dead because of me.  
_

_"Feels good, hm?" He nudges my arm with his elbow, and his voice is cold when he continues. "To kill someone you really hate."  
_

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

Our front door slams, interrupting us. Darry and Soda are up on their feet in a second, disappear out into the hallway.

"You found the kid?" I hear Two-Bit's voice, hurried and more serious than I have ever heard it before, and I sneak up behind Soda's back, watch his solemn face. It cracks up into a grin when he sees me, and he puts up a hand over his heart. "Jesus, kiddo, you sure scared us! Johnny here came all pale, babblin' about-"

I tune him out while I smile back at him, don't want to hear his words, manage to make my smile even wider when I meet Johnny's eyes. I make a little wave with my hand. He looks so relieved. Knowing Johnny, I know he blames himself for what happened. He really tried to make me not go with her, but it wasn't his faul that I did. I have to tell him that.

We all end up sitting around the coffee table, but we don't tell them much about what happened to me, and even if I know they want to ask, they don't. I think they know it's a sensitive subject. I will tell them eventually. Just not right now.

Some hours later Steve shows up in his DX-cap, and even later, Dally. It feels like forever since we had all the gang together, and it feels good to not think about yesterday. It's still in my mind, all the time, but I manage to push it away. I know Darry is a bit uncomfortable with the situation, I think he would rather see that we were alone, talking about everything, to be sure I'm all right. But he doesn't want to tell our friends to leave. I'm grateful for that. I think I need them here.

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966, yesterday_

_"I ain't like you," I finally manage to say, mostly to convince myself that I'm not. He's wrong. Sometimes things happen you don't have control over, and I didn't have control over this, but he - he had. He had years to think it over, years to stop himself, but he didn't. "I didn't mean to do it."_

_"It doesn't really matter," Henry snaps. "You really think that matters?"_

_I don't answer. Of course it does. It must._

_"So why did you do it boy?"_

_"I-"_

_I'm forced back into my memories again. She somehow lost her balance, she fell on the knife. It wasn't hate, it was an accident._

_But I held the switch blade in my hand. I took it from her and I didn't throw it away. I held it up, to protect myself... and maybe I wanted it. Oh God. What if I wanted it to happen? That would make Henry right.  
_

_"You wanted to live." He says it as a statement. "It's all it is about. Life. To survive, right?"_

_It was her or me. I hate to look at her, but it could have been me lying there. I could've been dead by now. It feels like I don't know what's right or wrong anymore.  
_

_I feel so hollow._

_"It's just about survival," Henry continues his ramble. He sounds like I feel. "Everything fuckin' is. You grow up in a pissy neighborhood and all you can do is struggle. Every fuckin' day is a struggle. You have folks that hate you and no money. People don't believe in you, no matter what, 'cause you're born on the wrong side of the tracks. You got no chances. The only thing you got is your family, and I ain't talkin' about blood. I'm talkin' about friends - you need to stick together. You ain't anything without them. And if you don't look out, you'll lose them. In a fuckin' heartbeat."_

_I press my lips together to keep from shouting at him. It's not like that. My parents didn't hate us and people do believe in me. I will have chances, we all do. Life is more than what he's saying. There are great things on the east side too. And maybe we all have money issues and maybe Dally has nothing and feels nothing, and Steve has a jerk for a father and Two-Bit's just left without a word, and Johnny's parents are like monsters to him, and Darry had to quit his life to take care of Soda and me, and maybe Soda felt he had to drop out of school but -  
_

_We have each other. And I know no one will leave me. I don't have to look out for it, I know they won't. Not without a good purpose.  
_

_"And when you think life ain't gettin' any shittier, then you best fuckin' friend abandons you and you're send to fuckin' prison and-"_

_Suddenly I get angry. I can't keep it in. He's talking about my dad, I know he is, and I turn to him, shouting._

_"He didn't! He didn't abandoned you! It wouldn't have helped if he had come with you, then you both would have been sent to prison! What kind of a friend does what _you_ did back then, huh? You wanted him to suffer like you, because of what _you did_!" My breathing comes out fast. "He wasn't a coward! You were, you still are! You killed him and my mom, but it wasn't even you! It was your brother! And it didn't get any better afterwards, did it? Did it?"_

_"Shut up!" He slaps me, but it's not that hard. I'm too angry to really notice anyway.  
_

_"It didn't change anything! He's dead and you still suffer, you still went through all that - all that stuff that happened to you. It won't go away. Like this!" I gesture at Sarah. "It won't go away. She - she's dead and - and I will have to live with what I did, and I didn't even meant to do it. You forced me to it and I hate you! I hate you for what you did to me and my parents and my brothers and I hope you'll die too!"_

_He's over me. He pins me down into the mattress, into her blood, and he spits out his cigarette. It bounces against my cheek before rolling down on the floor. He sits on me, making it hard to inhale. I think it's madness in his eyes, but there is something else too.  
_

_"You think death is the worst that can happen?" he growls. Then he leans down, breathes on my skin, his face only inches away from mine. "You'll go to prison, boy. When they find her, they will send you away, you got that, right? You'll get years, like I. What do you think will happen to you there? "_

_I start sobbing. I can't help it._

_"Maybe I should show you. I can show you why I did what I did to your precious parents, why it feels good to kill the ones you hate. You think you understand but you knows _nothin'._ What do you say, Ponyboy? Wanna play prison with me? I think it would be just fair."_

_I choke on my words, try to get away. "N-no. P-please."_

_His hands hold my wrists tighter. It hurts.  
_

_"Get off me!"_

_"You scared? Want someone to come and save you?" His face is so serious. "I'll tell you. No one will ever save you, you got that? You will be all by yourself. Always. Fuckin' remember that. You will have no one!"_

_Why is he saying this to me?  
_

_"It ain't true," I whisper.  
_

_"You are alone!"  
_

_"I'm not!"  
_

_"It's just what you think, boy. Who do you think will save you, then? Your brothers will not be around. They aren't now, are they? Have they come to save you? Have you seen them comin' through that door?"_

_I close my eyes. He's scaring me. My heart pumps so fast I think it will explode. I'm so dizzy I barely can't see. The fear makes me almost paralyzed.  
_

_"Come on, Ponyboy," he whispers, lifting himself up a bit and places a hand on my hip. __"You will never get away. You will end up just like me. Just like me." He suddenly grins.  
_

_That wakes me up. I squirm, take my free arm and start to push at him, hit him as hard as I can.  
_

_"No! I ain't like you! I'm not gonna be like you!"  
_

_He manage to catch my arm again, pins it down next to my head. I struggle to get free, but then I see what it is in his eyes. What I saw before. It's hate, but it's not hate against me. Suddenly I understand what it is, but I can only hope it will help me escape from this.  
_

_"No... l-listen..." I try to make my voice steady, keep my body still, but it's hard between the sobs. "You - you don't wanna do this. Please. You don't! You - you will just be worse than the ones you hate for real. It's not m-me who will be you, it's you who will be t-them! Them who did those things. You already are like them!" I take a shaky breath. "You don't hate me. You hate yourself! Don't you see? It didn't help to kill my parents 'cause they are not the one you hate! Not - not really. You- it's you-"  
_

_His hand turns to a fist and it punches me right in the stomach, takes the words from me. It hurts so much. And then the weight on top of me disappears and I turn around to my side and face the wall, crawl into a fetal position. _

_ I can't stop crying._

xXx

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

The last one going is Steve. I hear him and Soda talk while stepping outside.

"What about tomorrow?" Steve says.

"Yeah, that," I hear Soda answer. "Could you-?"

He lets go of the front door and it closes, chopping off his sentence. I glance up at Darry, who collects the dirty dishes from the coffee table. Wanting something to do, I start to pick up all the cards laying shattered all over the place. Playing poker here isn't always playing poker - it usually ends with us fooling around, making up our own rules and then throwing cards around when discovering that someone, usually Soda, cheats.

It was a great break, but I can see in Darry's tight jaw that there will be more talking. Soon.

* * *

_Thank you so, so much for your support to this story! I hope you liked this chapter. The next one will probably be the last.  
_


	14. The dissolution

_Sorry for the wait, but here it is. Final chapter! Very long. I know I could have devided it into two, but I think it's better not to. I hope you enjoy!_**  
**

* * *

**Deceiver**

**Chapter 14 - The dissolution**

_Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1966_

_Alone. Darkness. _

_A sound. _

_Someone whispers my name. "Ponyboy..."_

_I think it's Mom. It's her voice. It feels like years since I last heard it. I turn my head._

_"Mom?"_

_"Ponyboy!"_

_I can't find her. It's too dark. I don't know where I am, and the voice comes from everywhere. "Where are you? Mom?"_

_I have something in my hand. It's a switch blade. I feel its cold, its weight. Perfect in my hand. A part of me, an extension of my arm. I can't let go of my hold._

_It's bright, suddenly. I stand in a bathroom. I feel something sticky under my feet, and when I look down, the floor is covered with red. I want to scream, but no sound comes out. My heart thuds in my chest, and I know what I will see if I look up. I don't want to, but I must._

_She lies in the bathtub, her eyes sad. She reaches out a hand. It's twisted. Dirty with soil and blood._

_"Ponyboy," Mom says. "You killed her. You killed me."_

_I take a step back. No!_

_I turn around to run. There is no door, but all the walls are covered with mirrors. In all of them I see Henry._

_"In prison, Ponyboy," he whispers, "no one will save you."_

xXx

Strong arms hold me, a soothing voice tries to comfort me. A hand is touching my forehead, and I feel a glass against my lower lip.

"Come on, Pone, drink some," Darry says, almost pleading.

My throat really hurts. I take a small sip of the cold water, cough as it goes down the wrong way. Darry pats my back.

"It's okay now," Soda soothes.

"Did I scream?" I ask, hoarsely and a bit dizzy. Darry places the glass in my hand, and I raise it to gulp down some more.

"Yeah," Soda admits. "Don't think about it."

"Sorry I woke you up," I say miserable.

"Hey, none of that, Pone." Soda keeps his arms around me. I drink the rest of the water, and then Darry rises to place the glass on the nightstand.

"Try to get some more sleep, okay? It's a long day tomorrow."

I don't want to think about tomorrow. I know what will happen then.

Darry speaks to Soda for a while, but I don't listen to a word of what they're saying, and then he suddenly puts his hand on my head for a short moment, before he walks out and closes the door behind him. Soda tugs at me to lie down, and I do.

"What was it about?" he whispers gentle when we have snuggled in.

"Huh?"

"The nightmare. Was it about-" he stops himself.

"Yeah," I say. I don't want to talk about it. It was so scary to see Mom. I want to remember her alive, happy and golden, not bloody and dirty and dead. But when I close my eyes now, I see her as I saw her in my dream. It's not fair.

I rub my eyes, grit my teeth when the wound on my arm stings. Soda must have noticed.

"Your arm okay?"

"It's fine," I lie. "Just hurts a little bit."

"Don't worry 'bout tomorrow, okay?" Soda mumbles, but I hear that he's worrying too.

xXx

We're just having breakfast when there's a knock on our door. I drop my sandwich, and Soda frowns. First the three of us sits completely still, like we don't know what to do, but then Darry rises, mutters something inaudible and disappears from the kitchen.

I look at Soda, but he avoids my eyes, staring at his plate, and I know who he thinks it is. A lump forms in my throat.

I hear the squeak from the front door, and Mrs. Garcia's voice reaches us from outside, and then I can't eat anymore. Butterflies has a war in my stomach.

"Ponyboy? Sodapop?" Darry sticks his head into the kitchen again. "Are you finished?"

I can say no. Delay it for a couple of minutes. But what does it matter? I have to face it, sooner or later. So I throw a last glance at my food, and then I nod. Soda is up on his feet too, and we walk into the living room like we're walking to our death row.

Maybe we are.

xXx

The silence is not comfortable. I hold my arms tight around my body, hugging myself, and Soda has his arm wrapped around my shoulders, as usual. I have just told my story to our social worker. I didn't tell her all of it, though. Not even my brothers know _all_ that happened, and I want it to stay that way. Some things are too hard to talk about, and they will just feel even worse if they know. They can't change things anyway, so what's the point of them knowing?

Mrs. Garcia looks a bit shocked, but I can see that she tries to rearrange her face to look professional again. She opens her mouth to say something, but then she seems to change her mind.

"Well," she finally starts, glances at Darry. "Well, uh... did you see the doctor about his arm?"

"I know first aid," Darry says firmly.

Mrs. Garcia looks dissatisfied. "Yes, but don't you think it's better a doctor would look at it?"

Darry is quiet for a while. I know that he hates it when people tell him what to do. But he can't argue too much with the social services. "Right," he says, a bit defeated. "I'll get him an appointment."

"And the police?"

"We're heading there as soon as possible."

"We can help him with an attorney."

If it's possible, the silence after that gets even more quiet than the silence before. Darry throws a glance at me and Soda, then back at Mrs. Garcia.

"_We_," he says, and he's trying hard not to snort, I can tell. "You mean the_ state_."

"Yes, of course. I'm thinking of what's best for Ponyboy. It's my job."

I stare at the scene before me. I can see how Darry stiffens. I wonder what she means, if they only will help me with an attorney if they are my guardians? Is she trying to _buy_ me? Maybe she thinks Darry will hand me over, just like that.

"_I'm_ thinking of what's best for Pony. It's _my_ job." Darry crosses his arms.

"Are you sure you can keep him safe?" Mrs. Garcia still sounds nice, but it is an accusation.

This is not happening. It's not. I close my eyes, lean myself against Soda. His grip around me tightens.

"We were at work when it happened," Darry says hoarsely. "But it won't happen again."

"Exactly," Mrs Garcia nods. "But in a boys home he would have staff around him every minute. He wouldn't be alone."

"I can take care of him!"

"I know that, Darrel. I just suggest that until this is over, the state will take over the custody. For Ponyboy's safety."

"Until _what_ is over?" Soda suddenly wonders. He sounds angry. With my ear pressed against his chest, I hear how his voice buzzes inside him. "It's not somethin' that can be _over_. It happened, and Pony needs _us_ now. His brothers and friends. Not some fu... strangers!"

Mrs. Garcia doesn't lose her temper. She just looks at him, calmly. "I understand that you feel this way, Sodapop. But this is more than some teenaged boys can handle. You have been through a lot the past months, and I just want to help you."

"Darry's twenty," Soda glares. "He's a fine guardian."

Our social worker smiles. "I know he is." She turns to Darry again. "I think we should talk to the police, and then continue this conversation at my office."

We have no choice. I cling to Soda as we head for the door and our truck. I don't want to go. I'm afraid I never will see our house again.

xXx

The police station looks nothing like I have imagined it. We sit in a cozy office, with green plants and no bars on the windows at all. There are no handcuffs, no yelling, no accusations thrown in my face. My brothers are with me, and Mrs. Garcia, and some other man with a black moustache and suit.

The policemen are nice, there are two of them, but they ask a lot of questions, and sometimes I get really confused. They ask the same question multiple times, just change them a bit for each time, and I guess they're just testing me if I remember everything right.

But it's not that hard. I remember clearly.

There are questions about Henry, about Sarah, why did I leave with her? What did she say? What did Johnny say? Do I remember the car? The way we rode?

There are questions about what happened when we came to the apartment. I blush when I tell them where she kicked me. My brothers almost look ready to kill, but I try to avoid looking at them. I start to feel warm, almost feverish. I wipe the sweat off my forehead with my arm, blink a couple of time. I feel tired and dizzy.

There are questions about the switch blade, what I felt, if I was scared, where they hit me, what they said, where Henry is now. I tell them about Sarah. I almost have to whisper, force the words out.

Then they start to ask questions about our parents, and my dreams and what happened when I was little, and I talk and talk and talk, but I don't listen so much to what I'm saying. I just want it to be over.

It almost feels that it's not me talking. I wonder if I screw it up, say the wrong things, and I start to be sure they will throw me away. Soon someone will grab me, force my hands behind my back, lock them with handcuffs and then I'll go straight to prison. I'm so, so scared.

Someone puts a glass of water in front of me, but I ignore it.

"Who told you that Mr. Morgan was Matthew Gaines?"

"Um... it was... um. Bruce's dad."

"And what's his name?"

I tell them, and the police turns to the door, nods with his head. I see a man standing there nod back and disappear.

"Tell me again what happened when Sarah died."

I have told them three times already, I think, but I try again. Why don't they listen? I guess they don't believe me. I tell them I didn't mean to do it. I tell them that it wasn't my fault. That it was an accident.

Soda sits next to me all the time, and I hold his hand. I feel Darry's presence behind me. Now and then he adds something, or places a hand on my shoulder.

"You're doing good, Ponyboy," one of the policemen says. "Just a couple of more questions, okay? We're finished soon."

I nod, tiredly. The questions are more about when I was little. I feel even more dizzy now. I tell them about my dreams, and suddenly I wonder if this is a dream too. It could be. The edges of my vision are kind of blurry.

I remember every dream so clearly. I'm a bit confused by that, because everything else around me is not clear at all, and I put up a hand to cover my face as I tell them about what Henry did.

"It, um, it was in the park," I hear myself say. Then I frown. I don't remember what the question was. Then it hit me what I was saying and what they asked. I feel the blood drain from my face.

"He molested you?" the police asks.

My eyes widen even more. He didn't use that word! He didn't! "No!" I almost shout, sitting straight up.

I hear Soda swear under his breath beside me. Darry's hand on my shoulder squeezes me. I close my eyes, hard.

"He didn't... it wasn't like that."

"Did something happen in the apartment?"

I don't answer. I don't even remember what I said to them. What did I say?

"Ponyboy?"

"No!"

"He didn't do anything? Said anything?"

"No. Yeah." I try to lift both my hands up to my face, to cover it, but Soda holds my left too tight. So I rub my eyes with only my right. "It was just... he just threatened me but that's_ all_. I swear it was all. He didn't... like... do anythin'."

"What did he say?"

I don't want to be here anymore. I start to squirm in my chair. "Stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Stuff... um... just stuff."

Soda's hand starts to feel warm in mine. He grips it so hard it almost hurts. I lick my lips. They're dry.

"Come on, Pone," Soda whispers beside me. It sounds like a plea. I blink once. Twice. Everything is still all blurry. I feel so distant. Like I'm not here.

I remember the feeling. It was in the apartment, when Henry pressed me into the wall, when he took the switch blade from me... oh god. The blade.

"I didn't mean to kill her," I hear myself say with a thin voice. "Please don't put me in prison. He told me-"

"Pony." Darry walks around my chair, sits down on on his heels next to it. "What did he tell you?"

I sniff. "Things about prison. What they would do to me. He - he said he should show me. But he didn't. I promise he didn't! I told him he - that he hates himself and he punched me and he left. I promise he didn't do anythin'. He just said... he, he just said. He didn't do anythin'."

Darry soothes me. "It's okay. It's okay, Pony."

I nod, wipe me cheek angrily. Greasers don't cry. I have kind of forgotten who I am these days.

I hear the cops talk and someone, a woman, answers. Mrs. Garcia? I think I hear Soda too. He says something. Darry rises and they all rises so I do too. I wonder why no one stands still. They all wobbles, and then I notice it's not just the humans, everything in the room wobbles, and I'm just about to say something, if this is one of my dreams because walls can't move, and then I fall. Down.

xXx

_The ceiling is white. I'm in the apartment. I thought I had got away, but that was just a dream. I close my eyes, pretend to sleep. I should try to run, but I'm too scared. I can't move._

_He's here, somewhere, around, hiding, watching me -_

_I will never get away._

xXx

"It's the stress," I hear someone say. "The wound looks fine, no infections. The fever is a reaction to what happened to him, so all he need is to get a lot of rest. I would recommend for him to stay for the night, and then we can sign him out in the morning."

"Okay," Darry says tiredly. "Can we stay here with him?"

Silence at first. But then, "Well, usually we would say no, but in this case, we can make an exception."

"Thank you, doctor."

There is the sound of feet against linoleum, and it must be a door that opens, because other noises get louder for some seconds, before everything is almost silent again.

"You're not gonna take him, are you?" Soda says from somewhere close.

"Let's talk about that tomorrow when Ponyboy feels better," Mrs. Garcia says. "I will leave you now, but I will be back tomorrow. Don't leave the hospital until I have gotten here."

There is the sound with the door again.

"Jesus," Soda swears, and I guess we are alone now. "It feels like we're bein' held hostages here or somethin'."

"Pony needs supervision."

"Not that," Soda spits. "The fuckin' _state. _Why can't we go home until she gets back?"

"I don't know." It sounds like a chair is dragged over the floor, and Darry's voice is closer too. "If they try anything, we get an attorney."

"With what money?" Soda sounds bitter.

"We'll figure something out."

They are quiet. For a long while I guess they just sit there, but then Soda sighs.

"What he said... what Pony said. Darry. Shit. I'm gonna kill that bastard."

"I'll kill him first."

They know. They know everything. I wish I hadn't said anything. I didn't plan to do it. I wonder what made me babble in a room filled with strangers, when I couldn't talk to my brothers alone, but then I remember the feeling of not being there, like one of my dreams, a nightmare. Maybe this is all a dream.

Maybe I'm asleep. It sure feels like it.

Maybe I will wake up to a day when everything is like it should be, and none of this has happened, and Mom and Dad are alive, and Henry is just a bad memory, or not even that. Maybe he is just my childhood's boogeyman, the bug-man, a monster in my mind and nothing else.

I can have dreamt it all.

I must have. Things like this doesn't just happen. They don't. Only in nightmares.

I decide this is a nightmare. It has to be.

xXx

_We are at home, in our kitchen, by he table. Mom and Dad, Soda and Darry and I. A chocolate cake stands in the middle. _

_"I dreamt that you died," I tell my parents. "You were killed in a car crash."_

_Mom lays her hand on mine. Dad laughs. I'm so happy they are here. Not dead at all.  
_

_"It was just a nightmare," Soda says. "You always wake up screamin'."_

_I look at Mom. She has put her hand against the side of her neck. "Make it stop," she says. Her eyes widen. I see the red that pours through her fingers.  
_

_Mrs. Garcia suddenly stands before me in the room._

_"Come, Ponyboy," she says. "Your family is dead. I will take you to a safe place."_

_I look around the table. Everyone is gone, but instead, Henry and Sarah sit in their chairs._

_"I will take you to a safe place," Mrs. Garcia says. "Follow me to prison, Ponyboy. You killed them all."  
_

xXx

"You have to drink, Pone." Soda holds a glass of water in front of me. I pout at him, push his hand away. It's a wonder no water spills.

"I don't want to."

"Juice then? Chocolate milk?" he urges.

Shaking my head I say, "Pepsi."

My brother sighs. "The nurse said no. It ain't good when you need fluids. Just makes you pee a lot."

"But I want a Pepsi."

"Pone, come on. If you get worse, then you can't go home."

I think about that. If I refuse to drink they will refuse to let me go and then Mrs. Garcia can't take me.

"No."

"Kiddo. You need it."

"I don't. I ain't thirsty."

"Doc said you will get dehydrated. From the fever or somethin'."

"I feel fine."

"You still got a temperature." He lays the back of his hand on my forehead, but I jerk away. I shouldn't have done that. The world spins, and I put up my hands to my temples. Soda puts the glass down and crawls up in my bed to sit beside me.

"Pone. Come on."

"Soda, can you please stop?"

He sighs, and he's quiet for a while. But then he says, "Pone?"

"Mhm?"

"Can I ask you somethin'?"

My whole body screams at me to say no. I know what he wants to ask me. But I find myself nod, brace myself for what will come.

"What you said..." Soda hesitates. "Was it true? He didn't-?"

"No."

"You would have told me, wouldn't you?" He says it softly, sounding a bit terrified. "Pony?"

I don't know. But I nod again, just to please him.

xXx

It seems like Mrs. Garcia always comes when we have breakfast. Darry went down to the cafeteria to grab some sandwiches and coffee for him and Soda, but I have the usual tray with hospital breakfast in front of me. It contains porridge and toast and juice, but I can't get a bite down. I pick with my spoon in the bowl when someone knocks and the door opens up. I push the tray away, lie down with my back against the newcomers, drag the cover over my head. I don't care what they have to say, I will shut the world out until it's over.

I listen to my own breathings, try to make them casual and steady. I am calm. Don't _think_. Just be.

Unfortunately, their words slip in to my hiding place, and not even my fingers in my ears can shut them out completely. It is words from Darry, Mrs. Garcia, one of the cops, sometimes from Soda. His words are clearer since he sits so close, the other's mostly a murmur. I wish I could beg them to shut up.

"...what's best for Ponyboy," I hear Mrs. Garcia say.

"Well, you don't know him as we do," Darry says, voice raised. "If you really want what's best for him, you'll let him go home with Soda and me."

"This is not custody matters. It's about _protection_."

"That is not a good reason to take him from his home. Do you think I'm doing a lousy job, taking care of him? Being his guardian?"

"No, Darrel, I don't. But he is my responsibility-"

"He's _my_ responsibility."

"Only if I say so, Darrel."

I feel a hand on my shoulder. It must be Soda. He shakes me gentle, but I just drag the cover tighter around me. I won't go with her.

There is another voice I don't recognize, and there is an argument, but suddenly they all seem to leave the room, because everything gets silent. Almost.

"Come on, Pone," Soda says, still there, shaking me a bit rougher.

"No."

"They just wanna check on you."

I turn around to my back, let Soda pull down the cover. There is a doctor and a smiling nurse staring back at me. I blush.

"Where's Darry?" I ask, a bit embarrassed.

"I told them not to argue around my patient." The doctor flips with the papers on the chart. "Ponyboy Curtis. An interesting name."

I don't say anything. I'm used to these reactions.

"How are you feeling today?"

I just shrug. The nurse steps around the bed with a thermometer. While she checks my temperature, the doctor steps aside with Soda, talking low with him. I see Soda nod, looking a bit satisfied.

"99.5," the nurse speaks up. Her eyes fall on the tray still standing next to my bed. "You haven't eaten."

"I ain't hungry," I mumble.

"I'll send in something else. At least try to get something down, okay?"

I just shrug.

"What was that about?" I ask Soda, suspiciously, when the doctor and nurse has left again. Darry has still not come back. I hope that's a good sign.

Soda smiles. "Doc is on our side," is all he says.

xXx

They let me go home in the afternoon. I haven't seen Mrs. Garcia since this morning, and I'm afraid to ask what's happening. All I want is to go home and forget. Sometimes I think this pretending thing works, because I feel almost normal. Like it happened to someone else and not me.

I go straight to bed when we reach our house, and no one says anything about it.

xXx

The phone's shrill noise wakes me up. I prop myself up on my elbows to throw a glance at the clock - it's almost nine P.M. I rise.

Darry and Soda stand in the living room, Darry with the receiver in a tight grasp. He looks stern, listens carefully to the person talking at the other end. I meet Soda's eyes, a question in my own. He reaches out an arm, catches me and drags me closer.

"What is it?" I whisper to him.

He frowns slightly, shaking his head. Then he turns his head to watch Darry again.

"Okay," Darry says. "Thanks officer."

He hangs up. I know something has happened. I just know, but I'm too nervous to ask again. Darry looks me straight in my eyes. I want to jerk back, but I force myself to stand still.

"It was the police," Darry says. "They have found Sarah."

xXx

I don't go to prison.

In fact, it appears I'm not even on the suspicion list. I don't really get why, since I know what I did, and I have told everything, but apparently many things proves that I'm innocent to what happened.

They have both mine and Johnny's statement on what Sarah said when she kidnapped me. And after they found her, it appeared she had a police record herself. She had hung out with the wrong guys all her life, and Henry was just one in a long row. It was the first time she had kidnapped and tried to kill anyone, though, or at least from what everyone knew, but she wasn't a nice person.

Then both my doctor at the hospital and the coroner said that my wound came from self defence, and that my statement about what happened seemed to be correct due to the wound in Sarah's neck and everything else. Her cut looked very unfortunate, but maybe she wouldn't have died if she had gotten the correct help from the beginning.

I cringed when I heard that. I really tried to help her.

One thing that surprised me was that Bruce's dad, Mr. Graham, confessed to the police that he knew about Henry and Luke and my parents. I don't know any details, because no one will tell me and my brothers say they don't know either, but I guess Mr. Graham knew both the brothers, and somehow figured it out. Maybe he spotted Henry on the streets.

Even Luke's doctor came forward and told the police that his patient had been absent from every meeting since the date of the accident, so I guess that the police do believe it was Luke who died that day, and not Henry.

But Henry is still missing. I hope they will find him someday. I hate to be this scared, even though I'm afraid of the trial too. The cops told us that when they find Henry, he will be taken to trial for what happened in the car crash too, not only for what he did to me. It won't bring Mom and Dad back, but at least their killer will be placed behind bars.

I guess we just have to be satisfied with that.

xXx

The next days pass in a blur. I know I sleep a lot. I know that Mrs. Garcia shows up now and then, and I drag myself out into the living room by the time to talk to her. I think she still wants to place me in some home, even though she doesn't mention it. I can see it in the way she looks at me. But she doesn't act on it. Maybe she realize how much my brothers and I need each other. I hope she does. She's not that bad, but her coming over is still stressful for us.

I get dressed in the mornings and I try to eat and live through the days, only to sleep beside Soda during nights filled with nightmares. I don't go to school and Soda doesn't go to work, but Darry is almost always absent. But as soon as he puts his feet inside our house after his work day, he asks me a lot of questions. How I am and how I feel. I can tell he's worried.

So I tell him that I'm fine.

One day Mrs. Ellis, my school counselor shows up. I don't know why, but this time, it feels good to talk to her. She leaves a pile of books behind and notes from my teachers what I should be working on 'when I manage', and I realize I do manage. Making my thoughts occupied with schoolwork take them away from other things I don't want to think about.

One day when I walk into the kitchen in the morning and find Soda by the stove, I suddenly frown when I look at the calendar on the wall. It has been almost two weeks since I left the hospital. I didn't even notice the time fly by, but I feel better. I really do.

I sit down at the table, fidget with my hands.

"Soda?"

"Mhm?"

He turns around when I don't answer. "What is it?"

I really don't know how to say what it is that I want, but then I make it to a question. "When am I supposed to go back to school?"

He studies me for a while. "I don't know," he finally says. "You wanna?"

I nod. "I think so."

I'm so tired of being a victim. I know most people see me that way, but I can't do it anymore. I want to be just Ponyboy Curtis again.

xXx

I go back to school a couple of days later, when my brothers has gotten used to the thought. Everything is normal there, except that a lot of people seem to want to be my friends for the first weeks. But the day sixth grader Maxwell Lucas ends up at the hospital because his uncle cut him with a knife, everyone forgets about me and talk about him instead. I like that. Not what happened to him, because I feel sorry for him and it awoke a lot of memories in me, but I like that no one talks about me anymore.

I go to Mrs. Ellis twice a week, and Mrs. Thomas has dropped my case. She hasn't apologized for what she did to my family, but I don't care. I have a few months left, and then it will be summer, and after that I will go to High school and then I never have to see her again. They have promised me that I can move up a year, even if I can't get my grades back up. They know I'm smart enough to handle it. And I know that I won't have Soda there, but at least I will have Johnny and Two-Bit and Steve, so it will be all right.

The only thing that shows that everything isn't normal is that I'm never alone. When my school day ends, someone is always there to pick me up, and they stay with me until Soda gets home from work. I won't admit it, and I keep complaining loudly about the baby-sitting, but secretly, I'm thankful.

I still dream about Henry, and sometimes I wake up screaming. The wound on my arm turns to a thin scar, always reminding me of what I did, but I think I will be able to live with it. I know it wasn't my fault. It was hers.

I start to think that this is how my life will be in the future, always looking over my shoulder, always have someone in the gang close, when suddenly one day Dally and I walk through our front door and find Darry sitting in his recliner.

I stop, making Dally bump into me. I feel cold. Darry is not supposed to be home. Both he and Soda work a lot to be able to pay the bills, and we still have bills to catch up with, so overtime is more regular than ever.

"What is it?" I manage to get out. "Darry?"

I think that maybe something happened to Soda. Oh god! What if Henry did something to him instead of me? But then I see my backpack on the floor next to Darry's feet. It's my old one, the one I took with me when Sarah-

Bewildered I look up. My heart jumps in my chest.

"Come sit down," Darry begs me.

I do as he says and sit down on the edge on the couch. Dally remains by the door, watching the scene. My brother sighs, but there is something else about him. Something in his eyes that has disappeared. Like a heavy weight has lift from his shoulders.

"Pone," he says. "Henry is dead."

At first I don't register what he's saying. I just fall back, to the time I spoke to Mr. Graham, and I shake my head.

"No. He just pretend. It was Luke who died, Dar. In the car-"

But my brother interrupts me. He places a hand on my shoulder. "Ponyboy! He's dead. I promise."

I try to take it in. But he can't be dead. He just tricks us again. Maybe he has another brother, or friend, who died for him, and then he will show up with a different name and-

"Ponyboy." Darry says my name with emphasis, and I look at him. "It's true."

I swallow. Is this how it ends? Can it really be that simple? Don't I have to be scared anymore?

"How?" I finally ask, my voice almost failing me.

"They found him shot in his car. Somewhere in Mexico. First they didn't knew who he was, but then they found your backpack. Your name and address was in it, so the mexican police contacted the police here in Tulsa. They have already checked the fingerprints. Pone, it is Henry. It's over now."

I sit like frozen. I can't move. I can't believe this is true. But suddenly the front door slams as Dally leaves and Soda barges in, and just moments later, I am in both my brothers embrace.

I think I am crying.

**~The End~  
**

* * *

_I want to thank you for reading and reviewing this story! I know I wouln't have been able to finish it without your support! It has been moments I really have doubt myself, but your lovely reviews has kept me going. So thank you! _

_I hope you don't think I took an easy way out by killing him, but I don't want to write a second sequel so I had to. Sorry. At least I didn't end it with a cliffy this time, right? So be nice :P _

_Please review.  
_


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